


The Will of Achilles

by Kinshiva



Category: Dan Simmons - Ilium/Olympos, Greek Tragedy, Greek and Roman Mythology, The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Fantasy, M/M, Multi, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2018-08-28 10:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 56,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8442952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinshiva/pseuds/Kinshiva
Summary: Prometheus came to both Zeus and Poseidon and warned them that the child Thetis would bear would be greater than the father, though he did not explain just how much greater this child would be. Zeus decided to be as cautious as possible and not wed Thetis to any god for this was not a chance he would take. He married her off to a mortal, Peleus and together conceived Achilles whom was promised immortality and godhood but that was not enough for Achilles, he had to have Patroclus as well and he'd challenge the gods to get what he desired.





	1. This Child (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> So if you any of you follow me on any social media, mainly Tumblr (Patchilles) then you know I’ve been working on (mainly procrastinating) this story for quite awhile now. Between college and just life, it’s been a long time coming and I can’t believe I’m going to release what I’ve been writing for MYSELF on free time but well, it’s about time I shared it. One thing that really motivated me lately to really push forth with diving into this was the Iliad itself, I just adore it and I’ve been re-reading it lately. Also aside from books like Odyssey and TSOA, I drew a lot of inspiration from Dan Simmons Ilium and Olympos’ iterations of Achilles, Patroclus and the gods themselves. I'm also just a huge fan of dramatic story-lines. for me as a comic fan, I want to aim to create something as great as Chris Claremont did in his hay day (which probably won't happen but I can dream, right?)
> 
> This story mainly plays with ideas such as Achilles’ power, the multiple fates that await him and Patroclus and how his relationship with Patroclus is so much more than what anyone can comprehend. I enjoyed exploring the intensity of their relationship here and I’ve made changes and used different myths when it came to some of the aspects of the boys, gods and etc, The story is definitely a builder and the first chapter will be laying out some ground work, how many chapters will this be? I have no idea but I'm gonna enjoy diving into this particular world I've been creating. I hope you enjoy it and feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments. And again, thanks to Max Kennedy for the amazing artwork you’ve done for the story!

The Will of Achilles

_Sing the will of Peleus’ son, O muse, serenade to the people not only of his rage or his wrath but also of his unworldly grievance, Sing of the blood that ran like rivers beneath his god-like fleet-footed heels, Sing his ruinous ways that brought ill to god, fate, fury and man alike, O muse! Sing this calamitous tale, Sing his will…_

 

 

 

 

“….You come back where you belong, do you understand?”

“Once you have pushed the Trojans back to the walls of Ilion you will return to my side” _where you belong_. Patroclus nods at his other half’s instructions and wishes with a soft smile, as if reassuring Achilles that everything will be fine. As if he, himself will go out and end this war so that it does not claim another soul that he once sat up and spoke to, laughed and broke bread with. If Achilles would not save their comrades from damnation then he himself would have to and the sands of this beach could all be but a distant memory in time someday. The pair stood silently, fingers intertwined as the shouts of Automedon running through their camp and rallying the Myrmidon captains and soldiers are heard. Achilles’ grip becomes tighter on Patroclus’ hands as if he is afraid Patroclus will float away. The shouts of Automedon soon fade, the cries of the Greeks running from the Trojans fade, the sight of the fires that the Trojans carry toward the camps fade. There is nothing here, nothing at all but two, the only two that matter to one of them while the other of the two cannot take the darkness that surrounds them and cannot take the silence like his other half can.

The god-like warrior loosens his tongue as he closes the gap between him and his companion, “you will not attempt the walls of Ilion, for the gods will be there. You are only to push them back”. _Push them back,_ Patroclus repeats as his nose is now touching the others – Achilles brings his hand up to caress the face that means the heavens and the sea to him. _He is capable, he is gentle but they will know his fury on the battlefield, fierce and true. No man will stop him…not when he has something he seeks to protect._ Achilles’ mind runs as Hermes does with messages from and to the gods with thoughts of comfort to himself as he is about to see Patroclus off to battle.

 

Still holding on tightly to Patroclus’ hand, Achilles reaches down behind himself to pick up the helmet cap he had given Patroclus when they first arrived and went into battle. He knew that on some parts of Patroclus’ head that he was tender and when he first tried on his helmet it pulled on some of the hairs and Patroclus would wince. He would not say or even disclose this to anyone, Achilles included. It wasn’t his pride and Achilles knew that, Patroclus did not pride himself on much – he did not wear pride as Achilles did, bold and direct for everyone to see. Patroclus was always one to keep most of what he was feeling to himself unless what he was feeling was for one of his comrades who’d been done wrong by someone else, he was content with whatever was sent his way, and he would weather it no matter the difficulty. Achilles both loved and loathed this, mainly because he saw Patroclus in a light that Patroclus could not view himself in, in a light of unmatched and limitless glory, the best mankind had to offer, the best this miserable world had to offer. When he’d noticed that the helmet was hurting Patroclus, when he’d seen him wince just that one time is when he’d seen enough and retrieved from Nestor a cap with silk lining to wear when going into battle. Achilles smooths Patroclus’ hair back and puts the cap on him slowly. Analyzing every detail of his face, his cheeks, and his deep brown eyes and in that very moment wanted to take the cap off of him, unarm him and take him back to their tent. Where the dogs would be waiting or playing with the slave girls they had in their camp – though he knew Patroclus would not allow it.

 

“ARM YOURSELVES! VICTORY IS AHEAD!” A myrmidon captain’s shout was heard clearly and soundly around the camp as men continued to pick up breastplates, shields and swords. Metal clashing against metal is all that could be heard among the already celebratory cries from the men. Achilles is snapped out of his silent but very telling gaze at Patroclus as his hand still caresses his beloved’s cheek. It is time to enter battle and so Patroclus is helped up onto the chariot by Achilles, though not needing the help he did not mind it. There is nothing left to say as Automedon climbs up to the front to take ahold of the ropes attached to Xanthus and Balius. “You keep him safe”, Achilles issuing orders to the horses, horses that loved Patroclus very dearly. “It is done”, “to victory”, the horses speak and Achilles pats them both one good time before stepping away from the chariot. Automedon is now readying to leave with the Myrmidon forces now gathered around and behind them. Patroclus turned to the men, “we will bring vengeance upon the Trojans for the fall of our comrades! We will take back what wishes they had to drive our ships into flames way! We will be victorious!”- the men scream and shout at his words as he lifts up his sword rallying them, filling them with a joy all too well known by a soldier who fights any war. Automedon begins his charge toward the Trojans with the men, Patroclus looks back at Achilles one last time and Achilles at him. The gaze at each other fill Achilles’ belly with a feeling of guilt he will not acknowledge because the faith he has in Patroclus, his closest companion is stronger than anything else. _You will come back where you belong._

 

Achilles stands for what seems a forever looking out at the Myrmidons charge toward the Trojans, he hears their screams of joy. When he cannot quite see what is going on anymore he begins to mentally log everything that is happening through what he hears from the shouts of soldiers on the field. He hears the Trojans calling for retreats and knows that Patroclus is leading the Myrmidons to glory. _You will come back where you belong_ – He rushes to the tent and throws off old tunics and cloths from a trunk, inside of it he takes a large golden cup from it encrusted with diamonds and emeralds on its rim. He then rushes to the nearby spring and dumps the cup once and then empties it back out into the spring, he dunks the cup once more and holds the golden cup full of hot spring water up to the skies. _…where you belong_ , _by my side_ – He prays to the all-father, Zeus, to bring his beloved companion back to him with glory and victory. He prays that Patroclus receives praise for achieving such a thing for he deserves this much and much more. He walks from the spring with the cup still full to the sands of their camps coast. He pours the water from the golden cup exclusive only for his prayers into the sand and returns it to the trunk in his tent. He continues to watch the figures far away in what looked like pure chaos from where he stood. _Hector is fleeing_ , he notes. _Patroclus has the upper hand, they cannot stop him._ Achilles has his hand on his jaw, closely analyzing and observing the far away events. Some of the Greeks left at camp are also observing as they are being bandaged up from the attempt on their ships. The screams from the field suddenly intensify and the hairs on Achilles’ neck begin to stand. _Someone has fallen -_ Achilles squints to try and get a better view of what is happening. _Who has fallen?!_

He now can clearly see the Myrmidons clump up together in the middle of the field and his heart begins to race against the very faith he put into Patroclus. The Trojans seem to be bolder at this time, the Greek forces with Menelaus follow him to the heart of the chaos, joining together with Myrmidon forces. _You come back where you belong._ He sees his two large immortal horses galloping frantically from the fight to only stand in one place. _You have not failed me before, you have never failed me._ He can squint closely enough to see Automedon desperately trying to get Xanthus and Balius to move but their heads are bore down as if the very ground will open up and draw them in at any moment. _By my sid-_ “ACHILLES!” a voice of desperation and grief call out to Achilles and it calls him and calls him getting closer and closer coming in from the battle itself. “What is it Antilochus? Has someone been injured? Did a Greek captain fall?” Achilles looks at him with little patience, clawing for an answer while Antilochus tries to catch his breath.

 

“It’s Patroclus, he-“, you _come back where you belong_.

Achilles grabs Antilochus by the collar of his armor and shakes him for answers, Antilochus tries to speak but to no avail cannot due to the grip Achilles has on him. Through this moment of madness he throws Antilochus to the ground and runs to the entrance of the camp and screams shocking and penetrating fear into the Trojan forces for his voice was like a trumpet of horror. As Trojan forces flee the field and relocate themselves back behind the safe walls of Troy it is then that Achilles sees the Myrmidon and Greek forces approaching toward the camp. Menelaus and Ajax with Odysseus and Diomedes not too far behind, he sees the cap he’d once given to Patroclus in one of Ajax’s hands. He sees a foot swinging, dangling as they enter the camp. He falls on his knees as if the will to live had left him that very moment. As the body is laid out before him he hurls himself over it, cries of agony come out as he reaches for Patroclus’ face to make sense of what reality has just dealt him. He buries his face into the chest of his beloved and finally, comes his scream. A scream reaching the peaks of mount Olympus itself, the depths where gods like Nereus, Oceanus and Poseidon dwell and even heard by Hades himself. His mother and her sisters instantly cry for him and weep. Achilles could not bear this, the only thing of worth, the only thing that meant something, everything to him was laying there lifeless; and in his manic disbelief and grief of the moment he began to frantically look around the body, himself and the surrounding sands. Ajax, Antilochus and Odysseus knew what was going to happen and so they quickly acted to restrain him. “Unhand ME!” Achilles screams once more, sending the three men flying to the ground. “Do not do this, cousin!” Ajax quickly recovering after being shoved by what felt like a giant. Achilles stops, ignoring everyone around him, the weeping Greeks, the distraught Myrmidons, the cries from Xanthus and Balius, the screams from the slaves. He meets his face with Patroclus’ pale and lifeless face and in that moment _you come back where you belong_

The sun had disappeared and betrayed him, the light ran from him and his grief. One of the two were gone and the one left was surrounded once again by darkness but this time alone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  “Speak”, his voice low yet filling every corner of this gigantic room, ripe with delicate white marble floors and pillars, gold intertwined in every nook and cranny of the large palace room. He and his brother had been called to a now temporarily unchained Prometheus with urgent news. “Yes, Zeus, this concerns one of Nereus’ daughters, Thetis and the fact that I have taken notice that you both desire her hand in marriage”. He stands before the two towering gods and explains as their facial expressions range from stern to curious. “What of it?” Poseidon says, voice low but still as powerful as any hurricane. “She will bear from her womb a child who will surpass the father. This child will inherit all of what the father has and much more”. A silence falls upon the three after Prometheus speaks this prophecy. Thetis was a beautiful nymph, she has always served Olympus faithfully. Zeus was in her depth ten times over for what she’d done for him and not even a jealous Hera would stop her from taking Zeus’ hand in marriage, or so Zeus thought. Poseidon on the other hand admired the goddess for her beauty and resilience, he’d thought back to when he, Hera and Athena tried to overthrow Zeus and being outmatched by her loyalty toward him, tipping the scales and providing Zeus with a victory over the three gods, He knew Nereus well enough and thought that a union with her would be more than delightful.

 

However, this prophecy turned any feelings of desire to wed and conceive a child with her into all but a dream for the two brothers. Nothing was worth losing their thrones over, losing their power over. **Nothing**. They had thought back to the wars between Olympians and Titans where they overthrew their own tyrannical father who was now trapped in Tartarus. The gods both turn in silence away from Prometheus and call the gods to council to discuss the matter of Thetis and the prophecy. Zeus cannot help but think of the many battles he’d had with his own father, how he himself had been with so many women and conceived children of his own. Heracles for example, a strong example of a perfect off-spring. Heracles was powerful and honored the gods even despite Hera’s meddling in his life. He had gifted his child immortality for his great deeds and was happy to place him on Olympus with him. Though it was hard to imagine an off-spring even stronger, so strong that he’d overthrow the Olympians themselves. The more Zeus thought about it, the more he was coming to a conclusion of what he’d suggest in the council of gods.

 

Prometheus however was chained back to the stone to await for his endless punishment to resume. He’d hoped that once he spoke with Zeus and Poseidon and warned them of their possible fates that he would be sparred and given a chance once more, though he was met with no mercy despite his efforts for these were gods firm and matter of fact. They did not go back so easily on their words, blessings or punishments.  

 

“Will we truly let her live with such a threat she could pose, father?” Asks Apollo as if he himself will go to her and end her life. “Olympus owes – I am in her debt for what she has done for me”. Remembering the tyranny Hera, Athena and Poseidon brought on Olympus sends the gods into a quiet thoughtful moment. “Olympus does owe her and I will not let harm come to the young goddess either for it is I whom mentored her, I grew fond of her even when you chased her so”, Hera says while gazing at the king of gods. Hera had taken Thetis under her wing years ago and grew to become quite close with her, even when Zeus pursued, Hera did not show her teeth towards her as she did other women who caught the attention of her husband. Poseidon is silent and at a standstill with himself because he too did admire Thetis from afar until he became more aggressive with his chase, competing with his brother no less. “It is simple, we will not marry her to any god”, suggests the blonde haired and grey eyed maiden of reason and the arts. “Is it that simple? Thetis has been loyal to the gods and Olympus, shall we insult her by marrying her to a mortal? She will most surely see this as an insult from the heavens”, Hera says. She felt the chill of the younger goddess’ gaze just imagining having to tell her that she will bear a child from a mortal.

 

“It is a burden she herself will have to bear, we all have duties to the heavens and potential threat from her womb cannot be excused even on account that she once helped keep the heavens in order”, Athena is adamant about this solution, Thetis must marry a mortal, she will.

Zeus had already come to this conclusion before the council, “She will be wed to a mortal and this is the will of the heavens, of Olympus on this day”. And so it was done, Thetis would marry and conceive with a mortal and she did. Her wedding was an event for all of the gods, a monumental joining of god and mankind. However, Thetis was a shell of herself for that day and for the next few years to come. Raped, humiliated for every god to see and ripped from her the chance to share eternity with flesh and blood from her womb. Her husband, Peleus was in the bloodline of Zeus but of course this meant nothing compared to what she could have had. Zeus and Poseidon desired her, sought after her aggressively. When she was still bound to the land of Phthia she’d often stand tall, pale and intimidatingly on the shores and wonder what went wrong, was she expired to the gods? Had she done something to taint her name on Olympus? Her confusion and grief grew into sadness. She’d given up on children after she’d lost the sixth child, she had often confided in her sister, Eurynome. Trying to figure out what she had done so wrong to deserve this fate, a fate worse than any death to her.

 

A year passed and she was again with child but this time Thetis would not expect such a thing to live within her. She felt her first six children had died because of the Peleus’ blood, he had to be cursed or he cursed her, she thought. She would come to be surprised when she’d gone 6 months and was still with child. Thetis began to wonder if the child would truly survive, if it should survive. _What sort of life would this child even live? Mortal and feeble, it will wither away and die before my eyes._ Thetis was more distraught during this pregnancy realizing she would have to face the fact that it would be half mortal, half a weakling, half defenseless against the atrocities that plague man. He would be half of what would not guarantee him an eternity with his mother. Months passed and she gave birth to a baby boy, surrounded by her sisters and her father beneath the sea. He bore beautiful blonde hair and a pair of sea green eyes. The nymphs sung hymns unto the infant’s beauty, and so it was then that Achilles was born.

 

Peleus when first being brought the child, holds him tightly, closely and this irritates Thetis though he was the father. It was not his actions toward the infant that angered or even frightened her. It was his grey hairs, his veined hands. _This would be my son,_ she would not have it, she would not have her son wither before her and leave her alone. _This cannot come to past_ she thinks, _it will not come to past, he will inherit eternal life. He will._ Thetis confides in her sister of her troubles and always being dependable, Eurynome comforts her and accompanies Thetis to a new destination.

 

The two nymphs reach the center of the underworld where a river runs, the river Styx. “Sister are you certain?” Eurynome asks in a cautious tone. Thetis just nods in an approving manner that she is willing to do this, for her child.  Achilles is wrapped in a silk cloth and she unwraps him. As Eurynome takes the cloth Thetis holds the infant up by his under arms, examining him. _The child is not crying_ she thought, even being held uncomfortably it did not seem to faze this infant. Her sister takes a step forward with her as she lowers herself down towards the edge of the river to put him in. “Enough”, Thetis and Eurynome quickly back away from the river, “whose voice-“ Thetis is interrupted by the river when a portion of it begins to lift from its bed and form an almost humanoid figure. “What brings you to my river, young goddess” she asks as Thetis and Eurynome are no longer lost as to what is happening, they kneel. “Goddess Styx, I wish to wash my child in the waters of your river, to cleanse him of his mortality” Thetis tells the Titaness goddess truthfully and bluntly. The goddess regards Thetis for but a moment, “You wish? Do you truly? Do you understand that by placing this infant in my waters there must be an oath sworn, every god is held to an oath here at the river of Styx” Thetis and Eurynome look at each other while still kneeling with the golden child laid out on the bare ground before them. Thetis still determined to save her son from mortality speaks, “I will serve the river eternally if the river does not do what I believe it will do, I will be bound by this river and forever in your debt, this is a divine promise from Thetis, daughter to Nereus, old man of the seas”. Eurynome keeps her head bowed and face still as she hears her sister make this oath. “And what exactly do you hope this infant inherits from the river?” Styx asks in a still and neutral tone. “He will be a god and this is the first step that I must take to ensure it, I know this.” Thetis gives an answer she does not even wholly believe. The River Styx nods in approval and remembers this oath, the river deforms and collapses back into the river, Thetis takes the infant quickly by one ankle In a reckless manner _he still does not cry_ , she immerses the infant in the Styx waters, holds him under until the there is no more movement from the child. _He has stopped breathing._ She pulls him from the river and turns to Eurynome who opens the silk cloth for Thetis to put him in.

 

After a few minutes of waiting, the child begins to breathe again. _He still won’t cry_ , Thetis analyzes the infant for a moment, and for the first time is struck by those sea green eyes, vibrant and wild, graceful and whimsical. This was her child and he would survive no matter the hurdles that awaited him. Her black eyes bore into him and he reached for her though she did not react. Eurynome, however, was taken with him and admiring the sheer beauty of this boy.

When returned to Phthia, Peleus had demanded the child be kept on land and in the castle for safe keeping. He’d offered her to stay as well but Thetis had no intention of remaining on the dry land in this filthy world of men as she would say. Phoenix was the infant’s main caretaker during the day as Peleus was busy with trades, war business and other things kings are usually taken with. However, during the nights Thetis would come and gaze at the child. It is one particular night that Thetis picks the child up again, she is holding him carefully this time, rocking him in her arms. The child smiles at her this time and she is filled with a feeling foreign to her but she likes it. _You do not scare easily do you, Achilles?_ She holds him, rocks him slowly and carefully as he smiles, looks at her and even sneezes. She is taken with her child and his beauty, his resilience. _You will survive_ In that moment she feels this is how it will always be, he will not wither away like his father. He will inherit godhood and life eternally, she will see to it that this is what happens. While rocking him her mind runs and runs until it slams against a wall of an idea that satisfies her. She whisks the child from his room and out of the window, down near the sea she places him in the sand and leaves the child. After a while she returns and scoops the infant from the sand, doing away with his silk cloth that wrapped around him, she rubbed his entire body with ambrosia and proceeded to put him over a fire that did not look like any normal fire. Though it was set up just like a campfire would be and was growing by the second. She’d seen he child’s flesh turning black and melting from his body. All of this while her black eyes still met his sea green eyes. _You still do not weep, why?_ The burning flesh and growing fire eventually accumulates a smell that reaches the palace, specifically Peleus’ room. Phoenix is up in an instant when he hears Peleus screaming and running to the palace gardens. Peleus runs through the gardens and to the fire only to find his wife burning their child. “THETIS!” he roars and jumps toward her but she is too fast for him and his age, she is further from the fire and closer to the beach, she throws Achilles in the sand and disappears into the ocean as mist. By the time Phoenix reaches Peleus he finds his king cradling a child whose skin is charred, Peleus is crying holding his son, his charred son. “Does she hate me so much as to destroy my one and only son?” Phoenix places a hand on the king’s shoulder as to show support only to look down at the child to see the gold of his skin reemerging as the black and charred skin peel and fall away.

“Peleus...”

“Yes, yes! His skin, Phoenix…it’s…” both looking in awe as the charred bits of skin come crumbling off only to reveal the golden and soft skin they were used to of the child _._ Achilles finally opens his eyes once again in his father’s arms, he smiles and his eyes are luminous. Peleus begins to cry more for the son he thought he’d just lost and Achilles lets out a sneeze once again as if nothing had happened, as if he was not just put to a fire and burned. Peleus looks up at Phoenix who is also looking in awe at the child, then looks back down to see Achilles’ smile. **_My son_** _._


	2. A Toast Of Wine And Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A celebratory feast takes place years later for Achilles who is turning 18.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back guys!  
> So yeah, extremely sorry for the long months of time between this chapter and the first.  
> I made some adjustments to my plan for the story but it's mostly the same as I intended it to be.  
> Enjoy!

“My son” A clarion call from Peleus during an especially large feast at the palace one night in Phthia.

Kings, heroes and other demigods alike attend this special event, even some gods in disguise. Some have come to see the ‘boy who cannot be seen’ on the field, a testament to his speed, some have come to witness his looks that have been said to mirror the very sun Helios pulls across the sky with his chariot. Many others have just come for the good drinks and for the good wine, no, the extraordinary wine, the gods still favored Peleus and so the kingdom of Phthia was rich of many, many things. However, the gods in disguise had only come to see the child who was prophesized to inherit the heavens under certain circumstances that now, for sure, they had avoided.

 

“My light, my pride and my blood” Peleus continues, “Today you officially become a man, I remember when you were just a child following me all around the palace, asking so many questions about literally everything under the sun” Peleus says with an exhausted expression on his face and a wicked yet comedic smirk. The room giggles and “awe’s” at the depiction of the young demigod.

 

“Many, many questions” Peleus continues and then finally chuckles, “I saw you grow from a miraculous child, to the impossible and spectacular man you are today” Peleus goes on.

  
Thetis sits at the table at the front of the white marble stricken room, taller than all of the men there by far, she says nothing and she sits frighteningly still. _What is becoming a man to becoming a god?_ She is unmoved and unamused by tonight’s festivities to say the least but attends for Achilles. A middle aged and quite pretty woman approaches the royal table.

 

Many guards stare and look back and forth between the table and the woman, Peleus in the middle of the floor giving his speech with most attention of him. As the woman gets closer the guards surround her. She holds out a flower, an Anemone.

  
“I would just like to honor the parents of Achilles, My King and the goddess of the seas” she bends down and places the flower on the floor before turning to walk away as the guards attempt to help her up and away from the table while also making sure she really leaves the area, she looks back at Thetis who is as still as night and smiles. _Hera_. Though Thetis holds the gods responsible for her pain, she will never forget the relationship she and Hera shared and how she’d betrayed her by marrying her to that mortal fool standing at the center of the room.

 

“So not to hold up the nights festivities any longer! We celebrate Achilles and his 18th birthday, we celebrate his life now and forever!” Peleus moves for Achilles who stands behind him, his smile bright, covering the room in a wave that engulfs everybody in it, his piecing sea green eyes and gaze misses no one as they all fall before his presence as he steps forward. His skin practically as golden as his shoulder length hair. He’s tall, about as tall as any other man there save for Heracles who’s about a foot taller. His muscles moving and flexing under his skin noticeably, effortlessly. He truly gives an image of a god with no throne upon Olympus, no heaven to call home. His chiseled glistening chest almost halfway out of his blue tunic, a golden collection of what appears to be shells around his neck.

 

“Thank you, father. I owe you much and my beautiful mother” Achilles gestures to the large table at the front of the grand room. Eyes go to her in awe, taking in her pale beauty as they did when she arrived and ignored them all.

 

“And with that said, tonight….we feast! We dance! We sing!” Achilles takes the golden cup of wine from his father and raises it as he declares this. Turning from the crowd, specifically to the myrmidons whom he has now led in practice for a year now. _I will do great things._ Achilles isn’t the one quite for modesty nor does he brag about his strength, speed and agility. He simply is what he is, a miracle child, the golden child and that’s how it has always been for him. Special treatment, requests from kings all over the land to wed their daughters, gifts from countless kings, queens and gods. This was his life.

 

King Menelaus and Queen Helen of Sparta are present, greeting Achilles with awe in their eyes, “Achilles, it is a pleasure to finally see the one whom they are calling the warrior of our time” Menelaus starts.

“The pleasure is mines, King Menelaus” Achilles’ voice smooth and soothing, “And Queen Helen, your beauty truly holds up to the tales I’ve heard” He smiles and takes her hand with a kiss.

Menelaus snorts, “You would not steal my queen this night, Achilles”, they both laugh as Helen blushes.

Many others approach Achilles. Diomedes, Odysseus, Heracles, Jason and more come and bring gifts, drink wine together, talk of future expeditions and battle tactics. This was a room full of warriors, demigods and kings so what else would be expected?

An expected playful confrontation comes about when a Spartan challenges a Myrmidon to a few physical contests at a table on the right side of the room, The Spartans and Myrmidons cheers and roars overwhelm the room and soon many are turning to view the spectacle, women sitting on the laps of other princes, kings and warriors also viewing the chain of events that follows. The Myrmidons so far are winning many of the challenges, a Spartan wiggles his hand a bit after an arm wrestling contest with a Myrmidon. The same woman who’d placed an Anemone at the royal table turns to stand by a nearby marble pillar where there also stands middle aged handsome man.

The man is chuckling and clapping with everyone else at the entertainment the warriors provide, “such strength” he says eyeing the myrmidons under his breath as the woman at his side shoots him an amused look. _Zeus._ Thetis tries to ignore them both and the man passing out more wine at the left side of the room, giggling and dancing with both men and women. “I’ve brought more wine! Only the best for the Prince of Phthia!” He says this but was drunk even before Peleus had made his speech tonight. _Dionysus_.

 

The night looms on, Achilles is speaking with Heracles and Jason about their current adventures, Peleus is talking with Menelaus and Theseus about kingly business most likely, both young and so he’s probably babbling out advice for future situations. It’s not long before a good old friend of Peleus arrives, he stands out like a sore thumb, no fancy tunic and surely no extravagant gift in hand, he walks with a slight limp and cane. While the same age as Peleus, he has brunette hair with slices of grey in it while Peleus has all grey hair, though this takes away none of his handsomeness. Peleus spots the man and could spot him a mile away.

 

“Menoetius!” He shouts from across the room, nearly everyone hears and turns to see the guest Peleus is greeting before turning back to their conversations and entertainment.

“It’s been so long, my friend” Peleus approaches and stops to see his old friend with cane and a limp, he sighs and regards him for a moment before carefully pulling him into a hug, patting him on the back.

“It truly has Peleus, when I’d received the invitation I was overwhelmed with joy, it feels as if it was only yesterday when I’d gotten word that you had become a father” Menoetius goes on.

Peleus guides the man back to the back royal table where Thetis and others of his family and royal court are seated. It’s not until they reach the table and Menoetius is about to seat himself that he stops and turns to reach for someone, “Patroclus, If you could please” A young man, near Peleus height approaches and takes the cane from Menoetius and gently helps the old man to his seat.

“Ah Peleus, you do remember my son, Patroclus?”

“Patroclus?” Peleus’ brows furrow, not because he’d forgotten that Peleus had a son but because he did not even notice nor see Patroclus the entire time. Neither Menoetius nor Patroclus were exactly dressed to impress, Menoetius had on tan tunic with a brown cloak over it, came prepared for rain Peleus supposes. Patroclus however, was wearing longer garment, it had a flower pattern at the end of it near the side that one could barely see if they weren’t looking hard enough, a mother’s creation perhaps. The boy was about 2 or 3 inches shorter than Peleus. He had thick dark brunette hair that had a sheen and shine to it in the candlelight. He was also quite handsome, very handsome in fact when for a brief moment Patroclus moved a bit of hair from his face to see Peleus better. The boy’s eyes were big and beautifully brown.

 

“Patroclus” Peleus says again and moves forward to hug the boy.

The boy was petite up under the clothing he wore as Peleus noticed as he hugged him. He seemed like a sweet young man, caring for his father especially after his mother, Sthenele, had passed just a year prior to now. She’d been sick years before that though so it was most likely expected to happen when it did.

“How are you, Patroclus? How have you been?

“I am well, King Peleus” Patroclus says, softly and gently spoken. He was as delicate as the Anemone the mysterious woman had brought to the table earlier. Peleus and Menoetius continue to talk and catch up with one another. Patroclus on the other hand is still standing beside his father’s chair at the table, he would attempt to sit but there is no chair available and he doesn’t want to cause any commotion by asking for a chair or so he convinces himself that there will definitely be commotion if he simply asks for a chair to sit in after such a long journey to Phthia.

 

Patroclus is in awe at what he sees before him as he gazes over the room, you have some of the most famed warriors in all of the land, demigods and kings. He looks like a puppy in a den of lions and tigers, his mouth mildly parted in a partial O shape. He first glances at the big fiasco happening at one large table where Spartans and Myrmidons are drinking and laughing together, finally done with arm wrestling. He then looks over to see the many kings in the room, all of which are dressed impeccably he thinks. This does nothing to his confidence whatsoever though, Patroclus has never particularly cared that Opus wasn’t the brimming rich and prosperous place that other Kingdoms were.

 

He wore his tunic proudly, his mother had handmade most of his clothes anyway which made them all the more special to him. Patroclus was ever humble as well, he’d nod and bow to any passing royalty who passed his father’s chair. He’d briefly looked over the large, long table to see a tall pale being sitting there. His breath stuck in his throat for a moment. _A goddess? My goodness._

This truly was the place to be then if there was a goddess present, an actual goddess. As if the fates designed this moment themselves, in his goddess-struck moment he tries to glance elsewhere, anywhere else in fact when his eyes stumble upon the demigod of the hour, glowing like a self-contained sun himself. He stares for quite a minute

 

“Patroclus, Patroclus!” Menoetius calls

Patroclus snaps his gaze back to his father

“Yes, father?”

“Why don’t you go and mingle with the guests? There’s no need for you to watch over your old weak father all night, go and enjoy yourself” Peleus is standing next to Menoetius, shaking his head with a smile in agreeance of what Menoetius is telling Patroclus.

“You are not father and no burden at all, I would not mind looking after you while we are here” Patroclus gives a soft smile to his father.

“Oh go on, boy. You need to mingle, who knows, maybe you will find a wife here, a future queen for Opus? Go on” Menoetius insists, Peleus chuckles a bit and motions for Patroclus to go out onto the floor.

“I don’t belong on the floor, I don’t even belong in this room” Patroclus wants to say but heeds Peleus’ gesture and slowly but surely slides onto the floor. He begins walking right through the middle of the floor, looking at both sides of the room as he navigates through and if someone won’t move, he gently moves them, “excuse me”, he sees warriors chugging wine on one side, grapes in hand, men feeding women with their breasts out. He curves into the right side of the room, walking by warriors and naked women. Walking by tables full of the most meat, vegetables and fruit he’s ever seen in his life. “Blessed by the gods, eh?” he thinks as he passes table after table. He stops when he sees large man just a few feet away. Now there are a lot of large men here tonight, between Ajax, Diomedes and Menelaus, he was sure he’d hit the capacity for a ‘possible height’. In front of him stood Heracles though and he was one mountain of a man, well compared to Patroclus’ size. He was standing, talking and laughing with the golden god Patroclus had laid eyes on earlier. _I really don’t belong here._ He stands behind a group of Athenian soldiers and stares a bit more at the two men.

Heracles was large and Achilles at the height he stood, wasn’t far behind. Though Heracles was far more muscular, a bit too much muscle for Patroclus’ liking. However, Achilles was just right in height and width. _Divine blood at its finest._

Patroclus wonders only for a moment about what it’d be like to be able to join that conversation with two demigods, how he’d fit in.  


“Hello, I know you’ve wrestled multiple head monsters and that you can outrun maybe even the fates as the tales say but I can sow” Patroclus snorts a bit in on himself.

“Foolish”, Patroclus whispers and looks down at the floor in mere amusement at his own thoughts. “Are you having a wonderful 18th celebration, dear Achilles?” a woman with long, curly orange hair asks Achilles, she’s pretty, “Why yes, I am, Lady Deidamia” The golden god smoothly replies, a smirk upon his plump pink lips.

Patroclus is frozen for a moment, “18?”

He is in a daze for a slight moment, “this cannot be possible, divine blood and all but...” he trails off in disbelief. Patroclus is 18 himself and yet Achilles is already like a seasoned warrior god. Muscles rippling with every movement and turn while Patroclus has only grown two inches this year.

 

Patroclus begins to look all around at his surroundings, he truly did not belong. He’d much rather be back at home, running the streets and woods with his friends, the little he had anyways. “At least I’ll be able to tell Clitonymus that I’ve seen a goddess up close” Patroclus fantasizes. Clitonymus was much like Patroclus’ rival, he always had to one-up Patroclus even though Patroclus achieved little. Patroclus was said to be the strongest of the young kids in town and so Clitonymus is always challenging and at times picking on him the most. However, for all of his reservations and his peaceful and submissive nature, Patroclus knew his capabilities.

 

“Aye ayyeee ayeeerrr up on olympooosss!” A drunk Athenian warrior sings with others, bumping into Patroclus. Patroclus snaps out of his gaze a nearby table of meat and fruit and also out of his thoughts to turn. As he turn he faces a drunk Athenian soldier who’s about one feet taller than himself. He gives an apologetic look and gesture for bumping into the soldier but is met with a cup full of wine to the jaw and a scream from the drunk man.

“Las!” one Athenian soldier screams as the rest of them gather round to see what the commotion is about. _Las?_ Patroclus’ jaw is absolutely throbbing and he’d just been hit but his first thought is of the man’s name, “what kind of name is that?” his thoughts running away even in this situation. The man looks around, proud of himself, eager for a fight to press on the entertainment from earlier, encourage by the Spartans and the Myrmidons earlier physical games. Peleus and Menoetius look over at the crowd gathering but can’t quite get a glimpse of the two, “to be young again” Peleus chuckles next to his old friend who is also eyeing the scene trying to get a glimpse of the two young ruffians.

 

 _No, I really don’t belong here._ Patroclus makes a plan quickly in his head of what’s going to happen next, he’s going to get up and back away quickly before the crowd encourages this situation anymore, he didn’t want his fantasy of bragging to Clitonymus about seeing a goddess up close to be dirtied by him getting beaten by a mad, drunken Athenian soldier…with the name Las. Patroclus just could not let it go, even in this dire, surprise situation, he could not stop cringing at that name. _How mother would have had to be simply mad or incredibly simple to think of such a name_.

 

“Get up” The man smiles darkly and raises both his arms, egging on the crowds cheers and roars.

Patroclus looks around, wide brown eyes, he’s terrified and absolutely embarrassed and at this moment has the attention of the room, with people jumping up to see exactly what’s going on, those closer by, the warriors, kings and demigods, look onward, bliss in their eyes as this was their entertainment. And as he continues looking around, trying to gain his footing, he sees that even the golden god and Heracles have halted their conversation to view the scene.

Patroclus feel he will go deaf with all the roars and cheers calling from every direction, as if they’re calling specifically for his death. _I did not come for this, I am no ruffian._

“I said get up, coward!” Las throws the boy a deadly look, topped with a grin.

“You have the wrong idea, I am truly sorry for b-“

“Oh on with it already!” a soldier calls from within the large crowd gathering around. Patroclus was sure, no, he was positive that it was a Spartan. _Those loud damn Spartans._

Out of the corner of his eye he sees men who must be kings and demigods standing to the side, armed with gold and jewels. Achilles with his arms folded to his chest, Heracles watching as he finished a piece of meat and puts it down on the place to go close to the scene to see exactly what’s happening. There’s also a very beautiful woman on the arms of a man who cannot be anything else but a king. Patroclus mind swims around at the faces watching him instead of the dangerously drunk and war-ready man in front of him. _This is embarrassing and completely unnecessary._

Patroclus is absolutely done entertaining the very spot he’s down on the floor on, he gets up and tries his best to move past the people when Las, his drunken nightmare, shoves him back to where he was.  


“I do not wish to fight with you” Patroclus insists, eyes wide and pleading, trying to calm the man if anything.

“Be a man and take up a weapon quickly” Las motions for the hilt of his sword.

_Mother of Apollo, has he lost his mind?!_

The man dashes for Patroclus and at the same time, the crowd is now at a formation where the main attraction of it all is viewable from the royal table.

“Menoetius…I-I believe that is Patroclus” He says clasping the seated man’s shoulder.

“Patroclus? W-that cannot be my son” Menoetius tries to get up but Peleus helps him on his way, grabbing wooden cane for the man to stand.

Las launches at Patroclus a few times, only to be unsuccessful as Patroclus tries his best to avoid any and all physical contact with the man.

“Grab a fucking weapon, already” Las says as he then pulls out his sword and takes a stance.

The crowd’s roar grows louder and Menoetius eyes grow wide.

“Patroclus! Patroclus!” The old man is attempting to rush to his son only to be in the same spot partially due to his horrible limp.

Achilles makes for a motion that seems as if he’s going to end this spectacle, the young man with beautiful brown eyes isn’t armed and doesn’t at all resemble a warrior or soldier, “this is dangerous” he says under his breath, a stern facial expression. Heracles promptly agrees with a nod of his head. The other kings and warriors begin to see just how one sided this is. This isn’t a mutual consensual dual for entertainment, it’s a drunk warrior trying to show off in front of kings and demigods and that can be dangerous.

 

The hilt of Las’ sword hits Patroclus in his side, Patroclus stumbles to his side and Las almost immediately after swings Patroclus by his hair and throws him into the ground. He seems to be done verbally taunting the boy. He’s ready to go in for the kill.  


“I-please” Patroclus protests as he gathers himself, lip beginning to bleed and there’s a bruise on the upper side of his face.  


“You’re boring me, I could sacrifice you right now to the gods” He laughs as a menace would laugh.

_Tyrannical brute, you would really challenge a man smaller than you, with no way of defending himself._

This thought is not a question but a statement, a fact Patroclus knows because the man will not stop, even when the crowd’s cheers turn into concerned and shocking gasps. Some Athenian warriors look embarrassed and even try to pull Las back.

“Pray to whatever god on Olympus you can before it’s over, boy” Las has completely lost it, his swings are deadly and dangerous.

He swings and Patroclus dodges, “ugh!” he’s been hit be the edge of the blade, he is bleeding.

His gasp is soft, the golden demigod cannot bare this ‘entertainment’ much longer and begins to raise his hand but as he does…

“You praying yet, boy” Las swings one last time and as Patroclus is kneeling with one hand covering his wound, the other hand catches the edge of his blade. _Fool_.

Las grins, “come then”

He makes to snatch his blade away but Patroclus holds on with that one hand to the edge of it, his hair wild from being shoved and kicked around. His tunic, his mother made tunic, stained with his blood. The flower on the end of it, stained…with his blood. _I am no ruffian_.

Patroclus is up with his hand still on the edge of the blade, he removes his hand, slings himself toward the drunken warrior, Las is all of a sudden screaming, Patroclus has him by the ear…with his teeth.

The room falls silent at the sight of this gruesome display of ‘entertainment’, Patroclus stopped noticing the crowd about four or five minutes ago when his blood came gushing from his side from the slice Las dealt him.

Patroclus keeps biting down, eyes wild with the madness of a cornered tiger, it’s a shocking and sick sight. Achilles does not move and neither does Peleus or Menoetius, absolutely believing what they are witnessing is a delusion by Eris herself, but to no end, there is no divine intervention involved in this ‘fight’.

Patroclus finally chomps a piece of the man’s ear off, Las screams loud enough for the horses outside of the palace to hear him.

“What have you done?! Are you mad?!”

Patroclus is unmoved by his agony, Patroclus does not remember where he is, he only sees a drunk mad man who was trying to kill him.

The man is on his knees holding his ear as it bleeds out.

It looks as if he’s about to scream for help as he looks around, tears forming in his eyes, “h-“

What comes next sends Peleus flying from his table and Menoetius having to be caught by an on looking Phoenix, who holds Menoetius up. Thetis is unmoved but watches Achilles carefully. Menelaus lets Helen hide away near his chest. The scene is gruesome and the Spartans are even at a standstill with the surprising turn events.

Patroclus had just beheaded the man in cold blood, without hesitation and without mercy. He stands there for a moment, all eyes on him. He throws the sword down. _I am no ruffian_.

The Athenian soldiers are still and shocked, horror written upon their faces and then…rage.

Theseus quickly steps in from one of the front tables trying to calm his men and it’s only then that Peleus and Myrmidon guards reach Patroclus to retrieve him.

“Patroclus...” Menoetius feels as though he may faint.

Patroclus does nothing to resist the guards, they don’t handle him roughly anyhow, Peleus instructs them to remove him from the room and take him to the Kings sitting room with Menoetius. Patroclus is escorted out and the feast for Achilles’ 18th birthday is all but bloodied by the recent event. People try to go back to what they were doing before but no one will forget that moment.

“Forgive me, King Peleus” Patroclus says with wide innocent eyes under that wild hair.

Peleus is not angry with the boy, surprised is more the word.

"There is nothing to forgive".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so Dionysus is one of my favorites when it comes to the Olympians.  
> And even though he played absolutely no part or had nothing to do with Achilles and Patroclus in the Iliad, I do like to imagine him getting drunk at folks weddings, parties and all that. His little part was actually really entertaining to me when writing this.


	3. Horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get intense for Patroclus during the after-math of the feast.

“If what you say is true, Patroclus…then there is nothing to forgive” Peleus looks to sympathize with the boy whose on the verge of tears.

A few Myrmidon guards stand in the room around them, the door opens and it is another Myrmidon guard escorting Theseus into the room. Peleus approaches quickly and empathetically. He puts a hand on the other king’s shoulder.

“Theseus, my deepest apologies for the events of tonight and the loss of your soldier, I am doing everything that I can to understand the situation from what Patroclus has confessed”.

Theseus brings a hand over Peleus’ on his shoulder, “Thank you, Peleus but from what I’ve heard from crowd onlookers and some of my men…Las provoked and fed the situation. I am afraid I cannot defend his actions even if he was an Athenian soldier. It is I who offer apologies to you and your family on behalf of Athens”.

Menoetius is quiet and sitting down on the far side of the room with Patroclus at his side, his gaze to the floor staring at his feet, vision blurred from tears he’s failing to keep back. _How did I get here? Taking a man’s life?_

Patroclus’ hands begin to shake, he’s taken someone’s life and not only that but he’s done it in front of some of the most important beings in the land. He’s behaved like a complete lunatic and he’s completely tainted his father’s name and the reputation of Opus.

“…uh…hmm, Patroclus, is it?” Theseus looks to the back of the room where Patroclus stands.

 

_Even if it was him who began the fight…who am I to take a life? I could have subdued him, made a better effort to slip away into the crowd._

 

His hands are shaking uncontrollably at this point, he looks as if he’s shivering from coldness in everyone else’s eyes.

 

_I would not blame father for being angry with me, I would not blame Peleus for throwing me in a pit to rot._

 

“Patroclus?”

 

_Or worse…It’s not exactly like I’ve truly been happy or useful to father since mother’s passing_

 

His tears fall and his cheeks are blotched.

 

_Execution would be justice for the man I’ve slain and his family…he was drunk and clearly not in his right mind, that’s no reason to take a life. I am a disgra-_

 

“Son”, Patroclus hears that same old familiar, comforting voice and feels that familiar hand slip into his.

It’s his father. Patroclus looks down at his father, barely being able to see him with his wild hair covering his eyes but he could make out that faint comforting smile in darkness.

“Answer the man” his father’s voice is soft.

Patroclus finds it impossible to move his sights from his father’s face to the front of the room where Peleus and Theseus stand. His posture is very poor at this point, slouched over with his head hanging low. His heart beating like he’s just gotten done racing one of the horses he loves to visit at one of the stables in Opus. He looks back down at his feet away from his father, his shivering continues and becomes intense as the seconds pass. His tears now very visible, streams running down his face, hitting the floor. He shuts his eyes and balls his fist, _I don’t want to be here._

Silence surrounds him and reality melts away like paint running from a canvas, he sighs and lets out a sound that seems to be of relief but it’s him dealing with his rising, overwhelming emotions.

 

_I killed someone._

 

Realizing clearly now the situation, someone has died and at his hands to add to the pain boiling inside. It wasn’t on his tunic that only his blood laid dry, there was another man’s blood there as well to help complete the gruesome picture of his actions.

His hands tremble uncontrollably as he reaches to his stomach to touch the fabric of the tunic there, blood covering it fully, He feels the dry blood, its texture burning itself into his memory. His eyes widen. _This is real._

Memories flash through his head like pictures.

 

_Father._

 

_Room._

 

_Mother._

 

_Home._

 

_Horses._

 

_Flowers._

 

_Garden_

 

_Mother._

 

_Death._

 

“That’s it” he thinks.

 

_Death._

 

_Always lurking around the corner for me, taking things away from me. Changing me, luring me into its embrace with sweet visions and promises that will never become true._

 

His eyes clenched shut, unable to comprehend his surroundings.

 

_Room._

 

_Mother._

 

_Home._

 

_Horses._

 

_Flowers._

 

_Garden_

 

Memories flashing, flashing and flashing.

He’s standing in darkness, waiting, no, hoping that someone will come and take him home.

 

_Mother._

 

\--

 

“Patroclus” sings a voice of hearth and home, a voice of familiarity and comfort. Long and beautiful dark brown hair, light brown eyes. She smells like…

“The garden, Patroclus, you promised you would help me today” she smiles and leans over his small form lying in bed.

 

_I’ll help you, mother_

 

“Hmm…you know if you help me…maybe I can convince your father to let you ride that horse you’re always moaning about…”, her smile is sly and mischievous.

The small form wrapped in blankets groans with a smile slipping onto his face.

“Uh huh…yea…come on” She lightly shakes him as she sees the same mischievous smile she has on his little face.

“Come on”

He holds out as long as he can but cannot contain the laughter any longer. _You win._

And she did, rolling him out of his sheets, tickling him, finally getting to the laughter he was trying ever so hard to hold in.

“Okay…gah…okay!” He laughs loudly, gracelessly, childishly.

 

\--

 

“You don’t have to hold me, mother!”

“Yes I do, Patroclus and if you keep moving you will fall, sit still and position yourself the wa—Patroclus!”

Patroclus taps his foot on the horse and it runs, his body and his head wobbling uncontrollably, it’s a funny sight from where Sthenele stands and as much as she’s worried, he might just learn his lesson about patience today by the looks of how things are going.

“Ah!...moooottthheeeeerrrrr!”

She hears him scream as the horse continues running around in circles, if the wooden fences weren’t out there, Patroclus would’ve surely been taken off into the distance with the animal.

She giggles. _A lesson well learned._

Patroclus spots her as the horse is coming around again, near tears from the wind in his eyes and fear of falling, “mother!”

The look on his little face, she cannot help but laugh.

“Is that-my gods is that Pat?!” The woman who runs the stables comes out and asks.

“Yeah, that’s Pat-“She continues laughing, not able to stop herself at this point

“Mother, are you laughing?!” his face still in horror and near tears

He falls off of the horse and both Sthenele and the stable owner rush out to him.

“Patroclus! Patroclus!”

\--

The memory shatters

“You praying yet, boy”

 

_I fell today as well, Mother._

 

“What have you done?! Are you mad?!”

 

_Where are you?_

 

And then darkness.

\--

“He has a fever” announces Phoenix to Menoetius, Peleus and Theseus.

The three kings have been trying to wake him for the last ten minutes.

“He has been under a lot of pressure lately with taking care of me a-and I know he still hasn’t gotten over his mother’s death”. _I haven’t gotten over it either._

“The events of tonight may have sent him just over the edge” Peleus says, a look of worry toward Menoetius whose looking as old and frail as ever.

“And Theseus, I hope you can find it in your heart to spare my son any punishment”

Theseus turns to Menoetius confused and worried, “King Menoetius, after learning of the true events and seeing his current…condition, I would absolutely do no such thing, I only ask and pray that he rest and gets better…My condolences for your wife.”

Theseus’ eyes darts from Menoetius to Patroclus and vice versa a few times after his words.

Peleus puts reassuring comforting hand on Theseus’ shoulder.

Kings would understand the hurt and pain of losing a Queen, a wife, a companion.

Left alone to face the world without your other half, a fate worse than death and a fate many men have to accept.

“Peleus, also, will you give my apologies to Achilles, this was his day and it was ruined”

“Don’t be silly, Menoetius, things have blown over and the guests are leaving as we speak, the night even despite this incident was successful” Peleus reassures the sitting King.

Menoetius, though warmed by Peleus’ reassuring response, looks back to his son worriedly.

Patroclus’ face is still blotched, tears dried on his cheeks, eyelashes wet from the tears that fell just a moment ago. His petite form sprawled out on the king’s cot that Theseus and the Myrmidon guards put him on after he’d fainted.

He grabs his son's hand and squeezes it tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed, if you spot any grammar errors let me know!  
> I miss them sometimes, thanks!


	4. He wanted too much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’d offended the gods and he’d lost acknowledgement of his place, he wanted too much and so the gods responded accordingly to his nefarious actions by shooting him and the Pegasus down. Killing the beast…and crippling the man.”

The guests from his grand and successful coming of age celebration are all moving out of the palace and out to the front entrance to take their leave. Many having traveled from as far as Thrace to see the mighty demigod be crowned into his manhood. Many gifts and large piles of treasure linger on and around the large table at the end of the palace gathering room where the feast took place, there are jewels, golden coins, furs. Blessed beyond the measure an ordinary man could ever conceive or even hope to be in his life, For this demigod was loved and admired by heroes and kings alike, _if grand gifts such as these are anything to go by_ Achilles thinks when he glances back at the treasure filled, exhausted room.

“What an entertaining evening it has been, Prince Achilles, no one’s ever died even at one of my feasts”, Heracles chimes in on Achilles’ thoughts with a heavy laugh, on his way out of the palace.

“Please Heracles, just Achilles, it will not matter whether I am prince or king when I am out on whatever adventure it is you and Jason partake in next” Achilles’ grin is big, his chest poking out and his voice jovial as if he’s about to rush out on some grand journey at this very moment.

“Ah, do not rush into anything Achilles, your time and your adventures will come. I will, however, hold you to those words if by any chance I need a hand taking down another hydra”, at this Achilles lets out a sharp laugh knowing that Heracles would very well fair more than fine on his own.

The two laugh and talk as they’ve been doing all night long at the feast, Achilles is interested immensely with the thought of an expedition or even a plain old adventure with his own group of men, his Myrmidons. Defeating and overcoming whatever monstrous creature that would stand in his way or whatever challenge thrown at him by the gods themselves. _I can handle it all._

Achilles is the youngest of the hero’s prophesized to do great things, Heracles is the son of Zeus himself, Perseus had not too long ago defeated Medusa, a nasty monstrous creature she was. Jason had his Argonauts and his exciting adventures. Theseus had built Athens up with his own two hands, Cadmus being the hero whom people call the ‘beast-slayer’ and was king of Thebes these days. He’d even heard tales of a wild woman who was steadfast, jungle-bound huntress, Atalanta. There was also Bellerophon who was also once a great hero years ago before he’d challenged the gods.

\--

“What happened next?” Asks a curious fifteen year old Achilles.

Peleus shifts himself in his chair while Achilles is sitting on the floor, back upon the legs of another chair.

“Well, what happens to anyone who challenges the gods? Or even if you mistake your place with the gods” Peleus says with a shrug of his shoulders and a tired sigh. Achilles fully focused on the conversation at hand as he should be, Peleus wanted the story of Bellerophon to serve as a lesson for the young demigod, especially in his training days.

“Bellerophon had all that a man could ask for, Achilles. He had the wife, the children and he was king of a moderately rich kingdom” Peleus continues on.

“He had done many great things as well, he had shown many, many times his great willpower. There’s rumors that one thing that the gods loved most about the man was his choice of not seducing Proteus’ Queen when she came to him in the midnight hour.”

“No way, so…Bellerophon and queen Stheneboea could have…” Achilles’ cheeks are flushed as he snorts.

“Focus, Achilles” Peleus says softly.

“Bellerophon had done many amazing things, fighting the Amazons, destroying the Chimera. People sang praises unto his deeds, regarded him as not only a king but a man of the gods.”

“So…what happens next? You said there was a lesson somewhere in here, I remember.” Achilles says with a know-it-all smirk and attitude.

“There is, patience, Achilles.” Peleus is silent for a moment before continuing.

Achilles’ head now leaned back onto the seat of the chair he’s sitting on the floor leaning against. He yawns and he is sleepy, it’s late into the night as it usually is when Peleus and Achilles speak to catch up after or before he goes to see his mother at the sea.

“Bellerophon had everything an ordinary man or even a hero could desire but he felt as if there was more to gain” Peleus’ eyes narrow and he begins his usual hand gestures that Achilles is accustomed to whenever is father is about to make a point.

“And so…like the unsatisfied man he was, he got onto his Pegasus and called out for the gods, letting them know that he was on his way”.

“On his way?” Achilles’ brows furrow.

“Yes, Bellerophon was planning to ride the Pegasus through the skies, higher than anyone has ever gone before, all to be with the gods.”

“Oh…well did he make it?” A serious expression fell over Achilles’ face as he asked the question. His father did say a lesson was somewhere in it but he has yet to realize the lesson.

“No…no he did not” Peleus answers with a sigh that could’ve been a light yawn but Achilles doesn’t notice.

“He’d offended the gods and he’d lost acknowledgement of his place, he wanted too much and so the gods responded accordingly to his nefarious actions by shooting him and the Pegasus down. Killing the beast…and crippling the man.”

Achilles’ eyes go from looking at his father to looking at the pristine marble floor, a serious expression still placed upon his face. Peleus after a few silent moment’s notice this and begins to ask his son a question only to be beaten to speak by his son.

“I do not understand, father” Achilles, truly puzzled.

“If he achieved many deeds within his life…a-and he sent praises up into the heavens and he was the man of the gods, why would it be wrong to desire more?” Achilles is as serious as Peleus as ever seen him asking this question and so the older man sits up in his chair as if he’s in a meeting with his court and advisors.

“Because Achilles, it is up to man to solicit worship. To follow the plans and paths that gods beat out for us all. We are not here to be equals with the gods, they are of nature and we are of them. But when we lose our place and our complacency, bad things happen and an imbalance can come unto the world”.

\--

_He wanted too much._

Achilles would to this day, never understand that particular lesson and answer from his father.

_To want too much? How can such thing be a crime…how can one want too much?_

“Lest you end up as Bellerophon has” Heracles chuckles.

Achilles snaps out of his momentary thoughts and gives a lite-fake chuckle to whatever it is Heracles has just said, “ah…yes, yes”.

Heracles regards the younger man for a moment, eyes furrowed and still smiling.

“Achilles, you will be a great hero someday, that I do know and when you’ve found your calling and your journey, I am most sure your stories will be told and praised. Do not worry so about how fast you can leave this palace…your father. These are the days you should cherish the most, the simple days.” And with that said, Heracles bids Achilles a farewell, for Achilles to have dined and celebrated his day with heroes and kings he’s always heard stories about filled him with joy and untamed anticipation for his own deeds that would land him in the mouths of many people someday, singing his praises, his speed, his strength.

Achilles is bidding farewell to all of the guests as they leave out, some women with their breasts still hanging out. Drunk warriors escorting one, two or more women out of the door with themselves, surely the night is not over just yet for these guests.

“Prince Achilles” A young woman with orange, long and curly hair breezes by with an elderly man on her arm. Smiling daintily, clearly looking for all of Achilles’ attention.

“Princess Deidamia and King Lycomedes” Achilles bows slightly to the both of them, as charming as always, neither king nor queen could resist. And of course Deidamia could not, she’d been eyeing him all night even after they spoke and she wished him a great celebratory feast.

“Achilles, what a magnificent feast this was, you and your father have such a lovely kingdom here in Phthia” Lycomedes speaks, his voice frail and shaky but he was a very sweet man Achilles thought.

“You and your daughters are welcome here anytime” Achilles assures.

“Oh father, I would love to visit again, to see the much spoken of Anemone fields…” Deidamia trails off. Her father nodding with a smile, knowing the true reason she intends to visit again. He shoots a look at Achilles and Achilles just smiles, he knows as well.

“Lady Deidamia, when you return someday, I would be happy to show them to you” Achilles takes her other hand not occupied holding onto her father and kisses it gently.”

“I pray Hera sees you two home safety” Achilles says as if these are to be the last words in their passing exchange, Lycomedes is still standing there though, his brows furrowing as if he’s trying to remember something or like he’s forgotten something.

“Ah, yes, Achilles…any word on that brute who was a part of that gruesome scene at the feast earlier? Does that usually happen at these big gatherings?” The old man asks, trembling, his old age trying to compete with the gossip that lives within him.

“As far as I know, I haven’t seen the boy who committed the murder nor have I seen the body and it’s remains since being removed from the feast and…”Achilles chuckles lightly, trying to keep the conversation high and free of gloom.

“…This also does not happen often at our gatherings.”  
With that said, Deidamia and Lycomedes take their leave and so do the rest of the guests. The halls feel suddenly empty without all of the loud warriors around to challenge each other to contests of strength or the half-naked women running around with fruit to feed the men…or each other.

Achilles makes his way past the gathering room as servants begin to clean, he stops and picks up a golden coin just lying in one of the hallways, most likely fell out of one of the gift trunks given to him during the feast. He makes his way pass servants quickly, swiftly, gracefully without acknowledging their presences. He’s walking through the halls and observing the palace in its post-functional state as he usually does after big events. He runs into Phoenix as he’s on his way to his father’s sitting room-

“Phoenix, do you know where my father is?”

“Yes, Achilles, he is with Menoetius and his son in the King’s sitting room.” Phoenix says in a melodic old tone. He was a mentor to Achilles, a teacher and like family to the demigod, he was always there when Peleus could not be, when the kingdom had demanded their kings time, it was Phoenix who was there to fill what would be a void had it not been for him and his teachings.

“Thank you, Phoenix, I haven’t seen him since that boy murdered one of Theseus’ men, is the boy punished and where is the body?” Achilles’ voice is casual.

“Uh…Prince, maybe you should go to the sitting room and see your father, heh, he may be able to tell you more than I.” And with that, Phoenix was on his way. Achilles looks at the elderly man as he makes his way back down the hallway, he shrugs and keeps moving towards the sitting room.

Achilles is not so far down the hall when he sees his father standing, back facing Achilles, and watching as Theseus and his men seemingly leave that area of the palace.

“Father…” Achilles calls on him

Peleus turns around, smile wide and proud, “my son, my growing son.” He pats Achilles’ shoulder and steps back to take a look at Achilles.

“How was the rest of your evening?”

“Well after that …duel, I guess… it was alright. I think most of the people wanted to forget about it and so we quickly moved onto another speech from Menelaus and then Phoenix himself. It ended quite nicely, I’d say.” Achilles assures the visibly tired king.

“Is everything alright with your friend, father? Phoenix told me he was in the sitting room.”

  
Peleus looks back and forth between Achilles and the door leading to Menoetius for a quick moment, Achilles does not yet know that it was just no mere ‘boy’ who’d slaughtered that Athenian soldier, it was another Prince, a Prince who just so happened to be his friend’s son.

“Yes, Achilles, about that…Menoetius has a son…and…” He pauses, he does not know if Achilles will be angry with the boy for the way he behaved tonight or if he will care at all, he chooses his words carefully.

“Menoetius’ son is the boy who killed the Athenian soldier, he says it was self-defense and many onlookers reported the same to Theseus and the Myrmidon guards”. The old man says it as if it can finally be laid to rest but will it?  
  
“I know, father, I was watching the entire duel unfold…not that it was much of a duel” _the boy is a prince? That would explain why no punishment took place._ Achilles did not ask any more about it and instead bid his father a good night, reassuring him of his grand time. He had much to think about tonight, he was inspired tonight but he remembers Heracles’ words, “These are the days you should cherish the most, the simple days.”, but what is there to cherish here? The same old marble floors, the same old tall pillars, the same old routine practices he did. He was ready for the world, for the adventures and for the glory. _I am ready._

He flies pass the dining halls, casually plucking a fig from one of the bowls on his way to the west side of the palace, his wing of the palace. It was where the marble stopped and the stone started, his room was near the sea and near a huge cave outside of the palace. Here, so near the sea, it’s reflection mirrored on the stone on the outside of the room, casting a beautiful cerulean light on the stone walls of the palace. It was cooler here than it was anywhere in the palace, there was a stronger breeze here as well. There were fragments of marble on the rooms floor, cracked, mingling with the granite stone. His bed sat high, covered with furs from all over the lands, some thick and some thin.

He removes his sandals casually, taking off the top of his royal blue tunic and then the bottom, wearing nothing but the golden shells around his neck as he flops gracefully onto the bed, muscles flexing just from a simple movement. He’s exhausted from all of the smiling and pleasantries that usually come with hosting company at the palace. He’s become used to it though.

_I am glad mother came, at the least, I feared she wouldn’t show._

He lies in his bed naked staring at the ceiling as the sea’s light hits part of it from the outside. Going over tonight’s events, going over all who came to revel in his presence.

_Helen really is as gorgeous as I’ve heard she is, a lucky man Menelaus is._

_Deidamia was quite pretty as well…her father is a good man it seems…_

_And I wonder what adventures Heracles will go on next? And that Jason…_

He begins to remember the contests between the Spartan and the Myrmidon soldiers who were in contest with one another.

_Heh, the Myrmidons truly are blessed, strength said to be given directly from Zeus himself, together we will be unstoppable._

He remembers the laughs and the cheers, the adventures he’d hear of from Jason and Heracles. How a man would be hopping from table to table passing out wine he’d never heard of nor had before.

His thoughts trailed and trailed until he also remembered the dark spot of the night, the moment that ‘shall not be spoken of’. _I still cannot believe that the boy is a prince and a prince who’s the son of my father’s old friend._

_Come to think of it, I’d only heard of Menoetius once when my father told me the stories of him and his days as a hero, when he and Menoetius were traveling together with many more men._

_I don’t even know what kingdom Menoetius hails from and rules over, he nor did Patroclus look like royal blood, at least not in the tunics they wore._

He remembers eyeing the big brown eyed boy from across the room during the duel, he looked terrified and like no warrior. Achilles remembers the boy’s tunic, the flower on the end of it that nobody else seemed to notice, or so he thought. The boy was shorter than Achilles, even short than Peleus by a few inches and Achilles towered over his father these days quite effortlessly. He remembers the wild lush brown hair the boy had, his petite frame that he could tell was there even under the oversized tunic he wore. The boy wasn’t stick skinny though, he looked to have pretty strong thighs and calves. This was proven when he was pushed and landed effortless on his feet despite the force from the Athenian soldier. Nevertheless, he still resembled no warrior.

“I do not wish to fight with you”

Achilles remembers the boy’s soft and half-hoarse voice during the scuffle.

_A prince huh…_

Every other royal, be it prince or king, princess or queen made their way to greet Achilles, to wish him well. He’d by the end of the night known who every royal family was but this prince made no effort to come and greet him, any royal there would want their names mingled together with Achilles’, the stories they could tell and the lies they could spread of how they were so very close to Achilles and how they’d become ‘close friends’ just from one conversation, royals were like this. If you could not be a hero, you could be associated with them, stand in the rays of their light. It was strange but then again…this was a boy who ended up in a situation where the result was death. The more Achilles thought about it, the more mysterious the young man became. His big brown eyes being the most defining thing of the boy to Achilles, Those big…brown eyes, they were pleading and innocent, they hid a pain Achilles couldn’t quite decipher. Achilles never had gotten the boy’s name either, _should’ve asked his father before running off_.

_I wonder how long King Menoetius will stay._

More thoughts and hopes of adventure drift through the golden demigod’s head before he turns on his stomach, arm half dangling off of the bed and falls soundly to sleep.

\--

Peleus steps back into the room where Menoetius and Patroclus reside. Menoetius is in a chair close by the cot where Patroclus is lying. The man looks beaten down with worry and Patroclus looks exhausted and haunted even in his sleep.

“Menoetius…” Peleus makes for where the two are in the room. Menoetius turns to look at his old friend, “Peleus…is everything settled?” voice in the same condition Patroclus is, worn out.

“Yes, Theseus has said that he will put out an order amongst his men to inform whatever family the Athenian soldier had of tonight’s event’s, it is over now, thankfully” Peleus looks to comfort his old friend by putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I would also ask that you and Patroclus stay for a few days until he has recovered…” Menoetius makes to say that it isn’t necessary and probably that they’ve been too much of a burden already but Peleus holds up a hand, quick to stop him.

“I insist…old friend” and with that Menoetius looks to Patroclus, all sweaty and cried out. Fever seemingly going down from the herbs Phoenix had provided as he treated Patroclus before he was off to bed. Patroclus was all that Menoetius had left of his wife, he would admit that he could have been a better father when Patroclus was a boy but back then Menoetius was determined to make Opus a rich and prosperous kingdom. Though only he was only to do half of what he set out to do, he still achieved more than he’d previously thought he could. As he thinks about it, he also thinks of all the time he’d spent in the courts than with his wife and his child.

“Thank you, Peleus, truly…thank you” Menoetius says, weakly.

Menoetius and Patroclus are given their own room, Menoetius insisted that they’d stay in the same room so that he could keep an eye on the recovering prince. Patroclus would awaken every four to five hours either hungry or thirsty. During the third day after he’d been eating and drinking the little he could stomach, he would go out on his own to use the restroom and would be helped there by servants or palace guards. His father would utilize the bed in the night and Patroclus himself would sleep during the day though as he recovered, he finds that sleep doesn’t come easy these days.

One morning, Menoetius asks his son to rest for the day after noticing the bags under the boy’s eyes.

“I am fine, father, really. But if you choose to take a nap or rest then I would sit here right with you, I won’t leave” Patroclus says, voice is hoarse and soft.

“Why won’t you sleep?” Menoetius comes right out and asks, “You’ve been recovering well, the herbs Phoenix brings has helped you immensely…but you need to sleep my son”.

Patroclus, for the last day at least, laid there in the bed as his father left him to his rest, gone off with Phoenix and Peleus somewhere around the palace. He lies there, on the soft fur provided to the room, the space for such a guest room was quite large, Peleus had a magnificent Palace on his hands, or so Patroclus thought. He began to think on his father’s words, on how Phoenix had been working diligently to help him recover. _I might as well get some rest…_

The soft furs beneath his belly melt away, the scent of the sea from where his guest room sits in the palace is replaced by what smells like brimstone and blood. He’s no longer in a bed full of furs and silk sheets. He’s in a dark dirt ditch in the middle of an empty battle field it seems, Patroclus arises from his position, he’s dressed in Athenian armor. _What is this?_

The sky is dark with thick brewing and swimming clouds, moving in circles as the wind blows harshly and red lightning strikes and dances across the skies. Patroclus frantically looks around trying to find his way, figure out where he is. He moves cautiously, fearfully through the field of dead bodies, at first he paid them no mind but then as he began to walk further and further…

_Who are these soldiers, where am I?_

He continues to walk and now begins to look at the soldiers faces, he winces at the cuts and bruises on the bodies of these men. _By the goddess…what has happened here?_

He looks away from the bodies and turns the other way to vomit, the gruesome and hellish sight that sits in front of him proves to be too much for him. He stays with his hands on his knees for a few long moments, coughing, trying to make sense of this.

He soon turns and begins to walk further. _Maybe there is a way…_

As he walks, there is a body right in front of him, as if someone placed it there, angle wise and all, for him to see. He covers his mouth with his hands and tears begin to blur his vision.

_Las?!_

He turns away from the body, looking at more dead bodies in the blood wet field, _they’re all…Las?_

He stands there, hands holding his head, trying to figure out…no, trying to remain sane as tears fall down his cheek, his knees buckle beneath him. He can’t speak, only sob into himself. One of the heads on a body turns in a demonic and unnatural way toward him, Patroclus jumps-

“Get up” the corpse that resembles Las down to every wrinkle on the man’s face speaks.

Patroclus’ eyes are wide with disbelief and fear as he sits there on the ground, _I’m in hades…I have to be_

The corpses head laughs and twists off the body of the dead Athenian warrior, _that’s right…I …I killed him_

“I said get up, coward!”

Patroclus holds his head and looks toward the bloodied dirt at his knees instead. _This isn’t real, this isn’t happening._ Patroclus clenches his eyes shut, hoping that this is some wicked nightmare, that this isn’t his present reality. He feels a gust of wind and opens his eyes again, only to see a corpse army of the Athenian soldier Las coming toward him in a war-like formation.

Patroclus stands quickly, backing away but the ground feels like wetter than it did before, sinking into itself. Patroclus looks down as he’s backing away only to see that the ground is bleeding.

“I said get up, coward!”

The corpse army shouts, their bodies moving like brittle stick puppets. Patroclus eyes grow wider and he is desperately trying to flee only to have the ground sinking in beneath him, he cannot move.

“It is time, Patroclus, return to your rightful place!” A feminine and terrible voice sounds off from all directions. Patroclus looks around frantically, trying to catch a glimpse of someone, anyone. _Help me._

The corpse army of Las grows closer and closer, Patroclus is still moving, trying to free his sinking legs. The feminine and terrible voice returns with two other voices, all laughing loudly, wickedly. _I cannot die here, my father, he needs-_

“I said get up, coward!”

The corpse army is in front of him, swords raised high as the voices from nowhere continue to laugh in unison with the corpses. _Is this my punishment, is this the retribution I must pay…_

Swords fall and the laughter stops. _No!..._

 

“No!” Patroclus awakens in a pool of sweat, his breathing as heavy as it’s ever been to him. His father in the chair makes to move nearby his shouting and visibly worn out son.

“Patroclus…?” Menoetius limps over to the bed, holding onto whatever he can to make it over to Patroclus and sit down next to him. His movements are slow and steady but Patroclus can tell from the corner of his eye as he brings his mind back to reality that his father is struggling.

“No, no father…it’s nothing” Patroclus moves to help his father the rest of the way across the room and onto the bed, once Menoetius is seated, Patroclus sits beside him. Bags under his eyes, cheeks still blotched with the tears he cried in his sleep. It pains Menoetius to see the boy in such a mood.

“You were crying in your sleep again, Patroclus…” His father says softly. Patroclus says nothing, there is nothing to say. He’s been trapped in a sleepless hell for two days now, it’s no surprise that his dreams greet him as rudely as they do. _Or maybe the Erinyes come for me, maybe I’m being weakened to be hunted and taken to hades for eternal punishment._

Patroclus’ mind is racing with multiple scenarios and possibilities. His father is talking but he hears nothing. His worry outmatches that of any voice of reason at the moment, suddenly Menoetius’ arms reach for Patroclus and as if they’re magically touched, Patroclus breaks out of his dark thoughts, his father’s chin resting on his head.

“It will be okay, Patroclus” his father comforts, Patroclus can’t help but break down and nothing else is said for the next fifteen minutes. They sit there, huddled up in a hug in silence until Patroclus finally pulls away. His posture visibly displaying his current state of being: broken.  


Menoetius and Sthenele were never ones to depend too much on the gods, neither were ever favored by the Olympians. In fact, Menoetius is so proud by his kingdom’s current standing because it would seem there was no god watching over Opus and so Menoetius and his family were never wildly religious or faithful to the gods. They neither disrespected the gods nor praised them, for all he knew Sthenele was the same way but he did note when she’d slip off some nights, he’d ask her about it and she would just say she was in Patroclus’ room, singing to him or just holding him. Menoetius never questioned this, Patroclus was born pre-mature and barely survived his first month as an infant. That is in fact the only time Menoetius sent up a prayer, it was to Hestia, goddess of the home and the family. Though in the past two years, Menoetius has been through quite a bit. He’d lost his wife, Opus was falling into poverty, it was failing and now, his son had murdered someone, in self-defense, yes but the toll it’s taking on Patroclus…Menoetius fears he may soon lose the only blood he has left in the world.

 

He turns to Patroclus quite abruptly, not sure of what he's about to ask of the boy but he asks anyway as Patroclus slowly meets his gaze, those big brown pained eyes only motivate Menoetius’ question.

“Do you want to pray?”

Patroclus eyes widen in a surprise a bit, his father has never been the religious type, he’s always been…strong in Patroclus’ eyes. Patroclus never quite paid the gods much attention, sure he would go home to Opus to brag to Clitonymus about seeing a goddess but to worship one or two? It would never happen according to Patroclus, where were the gods when his mother was sick for four years straight before she eventually passed? In pain for so long only to be met by death. Where were they when his father’s leg went limp and he had to be cane-bound? Where were they when Opus fell into a depressed and gloomy poverty? Patroclus underneath all of the tears and fear, can feel that glint of anger toward the gods, he suddenly remembers that room at the feast full of favored royals and warriors. All blessed and loved dearly, there was no god or goddess looking out for Patroclus, he thought. If so, _where were they…when I was about to be killed by the Athenian warrior?_

“No.” Patroclus says simply, taking his father’s hand in his.

“I will be fine, I just…” He trails off

Though he doesn’t need to continue, Menoetius just nods at him and gives a soft smile, he understands. He’s had the same feelings toward the gods, so if Patroclus chooses to trudge the road of life godless, he won’t stop him.

“Peleus has asked if we would like to join him for dinner tonight, it is our last night here before we return to Opus” Menoetius tries to lighten the mood, maybe a dinner would help Patroclus see that no one sees him as a heartless savage. They all know by now that it was by self-defense that Las was killed.

Patroclus hesitates for a moment, to have to see the servants once again, the guards who’d carried him out. To have to face Peleus, a generous king who’d even offered him and his father sanction so he could recover. To have to face the golden demigod again…that lean form of perfection. He remembers him vividly like it was just moments ago, the golden hair, and the royal blue armless chiton he wore that exposed his chest. And then he remembers that his father had just asked him to pray. _Maybe I should go, to relieve father…_

Servants are all present, setting tables for tonight’s dinner guests which would be the palace’s usual. The main family, Peleus and Achilles accompanied by Phoenix and the rest of the royal court. There would also be the Myrmidons and my, were there many of them. The marble room dimly lit with candles for a relaxing evening meal.

Patroclus and Menoetius see themselves down to the dinner room on time, finally looking a bit like the royalty they are by title. Peleus has had the servants lay out fresh clothing for the two to attend dinner.

“Are you okay to walk the rest of the way, father?” Patroclus asks as see the big table at the front, clearly meant for them to join Peleus.

“Oh stop fussing, I’ll be fine” Menoetius says, being a bit grumpy this evening as Patroclus notices.

Patroclus looks around the room, it looks quite different than it did the other night, not nearly as many decorations or extravagant food settings. It looks quite marvelous, however, the palace back in Opus could never compete with such a place. As Menoetius makes his way, albeit slowly, to the dinner table, Patroclus walks slowly behind as to make sure the man doesn’t fall or tumble onto the marble floors. He’s also observing his surroundings, trying to push down the overwhelming fear in his belly. _Will they notice me? Will they run away from me?_

He notices some servants staring at him, whispering and running back to the kitchen to grab more food. He finds it quite odd a moment later when a servant approaches and asks him if he needs anything. She was a about half Patroclus’ height, hair tied in a loose lazy bun and her cheeks as red as a plum.

“N-no, I will be fine, thank you” Patroclus assures the girl as she turns and runs to one of the other servants, both giggling as he passes.

It hadn’t dawned on Patroclus that was one of the most handsome men that they’d ever seen. And his look tonight put him on full display. He was wearing a white, sleeveless chiton, it was a two piece to be exact. So much of his stomach was showing as the long bottom half of the chiton started near just beneath his belly button. His hair was more tamed tonight, it wasn’t until more snickering and giggling caught on that he was beginning to feel as though instead of becoming the lunatic savage, he’d become the bad end of many ill jokes.  
  
He made his steps a bit quicker and noticed his father had made it to the table and was already greeting Peleus.

“King Menoetius, it’s such an honor for you to finally join us for dinner”, Peleus lightly jokes with the old man and motions to the kings new clothing.

“You know I was never one for luxury, Peleus” Menoetius chuckles as he’s helped to down at the chair next to Peleus’ by a nearby servant.

Patroclus felt a chill go up his spine as he’d seen Peleus. _What do I say? What do I do if he asks…_

Peleus turns his head, reminiscent of the night of the feast except this time, he notices Patroclus. Everyone notices Patroclus.

“Ah…the Prince of Opus has finally awoken” Peleus’ arms are wide open and for a minute Patroclus is shell-shocked, the court and Myrmidons are entering the room and noticing him. He looks around nervously before reluctantly responding to the hug Peleus initiates.

“You have nothing to worry about, dear Patroclus” Peleus whispers to him as the hug lasts a bit longer than Patroclus was prepared for.

Patroclus feels a tad more relaxed for a moment, he feels the warmth of Peleus, and this king…this man was truly one of wonder. As kind as any man he’d ever met in his life besides his father. The smile from Peleus and the hand he brings to Patroclus’ face when they break the embrace warms the awkward and nervous Prince. He has never felt so many emotions in one day, from being hunted by the furies in his dreams to being embraced and looked at like he’s some gem by this kind King and his court.

It’s when Peleus pulls away that HE walks into the room, Myrmidons get back up from their seats to bow as he passes quickly. Peleus and the whole of the front table turn their heads as he approaches. Patroclus’ heart stops. The candles are no match for HIM, they lose this battle many times over. Muses begin to sing in Patroclus’ head, a calm washes over his thoughts.

_The sun has just risen in this very room._

Peleus moves to greet his own son with a hug, “Achilles” a proud fathers smile.

Achilles returns his father’s love and warmth and when he turns to the boy beside him he stops and regards him for a moment.

“Patroclus, is it?” Achilles says, voice ever smooth, smirk ever charming.

Patroclus looks up at the demigod for a moment, in awe of seeing him up close. Plump pink lips surrounded by golden skin, his hair fully down tonight with a braid tied on the right side of his head. Wearing a light blue sleeveless chiton tonight, his glistening muscled chest out for all to see and take turns worshiping over. _He smells like the sea._

“Greetings, Prince Achilles” Patroclus says as he looks away from the demigod and to his feet, as if his eyes would melt from his head if he stared any longer.

If his heart stopped before then he’d died and gone to Elysium when he felt a large, soft and delicate hand climb into his. Stars fell in that dining hall right then and there. Patroclus looked up hesitantly as his hand entangled with Achilles’ hand

“A pleasure”, _the sun…it speaks._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..They finally meet and there's a bunch of foreshadowing going on through the chapter (and last chapter). ^^  
> The set up is quite strong but I promise it's worth it.


	5. He Has His Hands On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Achilles’ immortal horses wept, The hot tears poured from their eyes to the dust, as they wept for their charioteer" -Iliad XVII:384-480

The night is still quite young and the dining hall is full with light chatter and laughter, bowls settling onto tables and the sound of bare feet walking quickly across the floors as servants tend to the Myrmidon soldiers. Refilling their bowls, taking their bowls to be cleaned or being straddled on the lap of laughing Myrmidons.

The table where Peleus and his court sit remains untouched, however, the servants know they are to tend to the dishes there after everyone from the table has gotten up and left. Patroclus sits on the far right side of the table, in-between his father and someone who he doesn’t know but figures they have to be important sitting at the table and all. Peleus is seated at the head of the table while Achilles sits on the left side next to him, across from King Menoetius.

“Oh and don’t forget when we finally reached the shore--you had to have me come down from the ship to remind you that we were not at the Gorgon’s cave just yet! You nearly pissed the sands upon the beach right then and there, Menoetius!” Peleus’ laugh is wide and grand—telling an old tale from his younger days with Menoetius.  

“No-no, I said that we should be careful not to go head-first into that cave! I was not afraid of any Gorgon-I mean of course I was cautious but-“Menoetius tries to argue back as Peleus and the court laugh. Patroclus keeps his head low and listens to the banter and the old tales being told, he keeps his gaze down on his plate and it’s not very difficult to do at this moment. The food leaves much to be desired from the meals he’s served in Opus, he’s even figured that Opus could also learn a thing or two about wine from Phthia. On this night Peleus had fish, ram meat, fresh bread and strawberries served to the entire hall. Patroclus had looked to the rest of the room where many Myrmidon’s filled the many tables, he trails off in his thoughts for a bit, wondering where they train, where they sleep, if they are truly blessed by Zeus himself.

Patroclus takes his gaze off of the room and returns it back to his plate to finish the rest of the bread he has. He tries to be as small as possible at the table so not to stand out, he doesn’t feel quite up to task of putting on a visage of princely cheerfulness given recent events. There was also the demigod sitting at the table with him that he had to keep in mind. _Head down, don’t look his direction, be small._ Patroclus mentally instructed himself every few moments as he finished his meat, he still felt guilty for what he was involved in during the feast that took place in the very room he now sits in. His flashes of memory back to the nightmares he’d been having would flick in and out of his mind, he’d twitch slightly at the thought of them sometimes and he tried hiding two twitches he’d already had at the table during the dinner.

He didn’t want to anger Peleus nor Achilles by disturbing yet another feast—well dinner, though it was all the same to him. Being a prince, he knows he must keep up appearances but rarely does that these days but then again he’s never really done that. Patroclus was sure that Achilles was angry with him and quite disgusted, that he was hiding his disdain for him quite well. _Head down, be small._

Achilles was a prince that had a lot going for him in Patroclus’ eyes, he was a demigod first and foremost, and he was very powerful already according to kings and queens and even hero’s such as Heracles and Theseus who even attended his feast. Achilles was going places and Patroclus was well…the prince who didn’t even get the respect his title demanded by palace servants and commoners. Patroclus tries his best not to think of the prince or how angry he could be with him but the handshake Achilles initiated unexpectedly had still led his thoughts to the worries he thought were validated at the moment. He tries to move away from these thoughts and pass the memories of recent nightmares, he eventually gives up on giving all of his attention to a bowl and tries to catch up to the conversation being had at the table.

“Yes, yes—He plans to take the Myrmidons with him when he’s finally called by the gods to a set purpose” Peleus says, reclining back into his chair, proud.

“Ah, Prince Achilles has come far in his commanding of the Myrmidon’s, I’ve watched them training recently and they’re very spectacular if I must say so” Phoenix chimes in, a warm voice.

Achilles looks up for a moment from the bowls of food in front of him to give a smile to the table as they sing his praises, Patroclus notices as he’s looking up now that Achilles has cleaned out several bowls of ram meat and fish, his eyes widen slightly.

“Patroclus, what of you? What is it that you wish to do as you grow older? Warrior perhaps?” Peleus asks while putting down his wine cup, having just taken a sip.

Patroclus snaps his gaze to Peleus, he can feel the tables eyes all on him, his mouth parts slightly as if he’s about to say something. He’s stunned but thankful he was paying attention, had he been glued to his bowl still and stuck in his thoughts he might’ve missed the question and probably would have garnered further embarrassment or so he thinks. He can see Achilles staring at him while licking his fingers from the meat he’s just consumed.

“Well, I-“, Patroclus starts

“A warrior? I could not picture my son as such to be quite honest”, Menoetius chuckles.

“Is that so? I’d think with his reflexes that he could make a fine warrior”, Peleus regards Patroclus for a moment.

Patroclus’ heart jumps as Peleus is clearly referring to the spectacle at the feast. He catches the king’s gaze and looks to his father then back to Peleus. _Should I speak? What worse thing could happen now?_

“I-I think I am more suited to the stables than the battlefield”, his hoarse voice is soft and almost too quiet to hear.

Peleus sits up at the sudden words from Patroclus, excited to see that the boy does speak. He hopes he could hold a conversation as well.

“Ah…a boy more in tune with beasts than the ways of battle, nothing wrong with that”, he sips his wine once more. Menoetius gives Patroclus a smile and a light nod letting him know that he’s done well to even have attended dinner tonight, he turns back to continue to speaking with Peleus for quite a bit more as the rest of the table finishes their meals.

As time passes Patroclus’ gaze returns to his bowl, listening to the conversations at the table when all of a sudden he can hear a chair move across the marble floor slightly.

“Father, May I be excused”, Achilles stands, hands behind his back.

“Of course, Achilles”, with that Achilles bowed and was now moving toward the entrance leading to the main hallway but before he could get all the way there Peleus suddenly looks from Menoetius and toward Patroclus whose face is still faced down.

“Oh, Achilles” Peleus stops Achilles in his steps, Achilles turns with his brows raised in curiosity.

“Will you show Patroclus around the palace, perhaps show him the gardens” Peleus suggests. Achilles looks from his father and to Patroclus. Patroclus head snaps up to look at Peleus wide eyed. _No…_

It’d been a miracle that he even attended this dinner but to have to be around Achilles, he could feel the demigod’s eyes on him, burning through him, “well go on, Patroclus”, Menoetius says while motioning his head toward where Achilles was.

“So much for keeping my head down” Patroclus thinks.

Patroclus gives a fake but convincing smile to the table and bows before making his way to Achilles near the entrance. As he nears, Achilles turns back around and continues on, motioning with a flick of his hand for Patroclus to follow him.

 

\--

 

He follows Achilles down the hallway he’d never seen the rest of due to the incident and falling ill a few nights ago. He’s looking around the palace as he follows the demigod and the palace is even more gorgeous deep inside. Achilles makes a turn and Patroclus has to be quick to keep up, Achilles isn’t necessarily going fast but he’s quick on his feet. Patroclus looks directly at the demigod in front of him noticing the confidence he has. As if he could take the very heavens down, his walk alone says a lot about him. _How angry could he be with me, he hasn’t looked back not even once…_

“Do you want to see the training ground as well, Patroclus?” Achilles turns around and his voice rings out. Patroclus slightly jumps out of his thoughts, surprised to be spoken to at all, he looks up at Achilles who’s stopped to wait for an answer.

“S-sure, that would be…that would be nice” Patroclus gives a crooked shy smile.

“Alright, we are near the gardens, from there we can go to the training grounds and the stables” Achilles says casually and smoothly as he begins walking again.

They reach the gardens and Patroclus is in awe, it’s probably even more beautiful than the meadows near his palace in Opus. Phthia truly outclasses Opus in nearly everything he’s experienced tonight and that takes his confidence down a bit but he doesn’t let it show. _Being blessed by the gods truly is something of a wonder._

“Prince Achilles” Patroclus turns to see servants greeting Achilles and him bowing to greet them as well. He can see the adoration in their eyes for their prince. The servants giggle as Achilles smiles at them as they are on their way. Patroclus tries to think of a time any servant in his own palace had ever greeted him with such a smile, with such adoration and admiration in their eyes for him—he came up short. Achilles had a charm that Patroclus didn’t quite know if he was jealous of or inspired by and he could see that this was effortless for the prince of Phthia.

“Do you like it?” Achilles asks, snatching Patroclus from his thoughts.

“U-uh, yes, very much so.” Patroclus responds, briefly.

Achilles puts his hands behind his back and begins walking through the garden, stopping and waiting at times for Patroclus to join him at his side instead of trailing behind. He looks behind to see Patroclus staring at rose bushes, Patroclus looked different tonight. Yes, there were bags under the Prince’s eyes and his cheeks still red probably from crying but he looked very handsome with his hair tamed and the new chiton he’d been given by Peleus.

“You don’t have to walk behind me, Patroclus, I won’t bite” Achilles says, a smirk on his lips.

Patroclus’ eyes widen and he hesitates to move forward, “O-of course”.

Patroclus begins walking faster to join Achilles’ side as they walk through the gardens. It’s silent and there is an awkward air around the two, mostly from Patroclus who feels that Achilles is absolutely repulsed by him. They come to a large fountain in the garden and a bench not too far from it. Achilles makes his way to the fountain, picking up a leaf and tossing it into the water. Patroclus stops and watches him while also observing his surroundings.

“You know, I’m not angry with you, Patroclus”, Achilles says abruptly, voice cutting through the sounds of crickets, owls and all things that nature brings in the midnight hour.

Patroclus is still for a moment.

“No one is angry with you nor do we think badly of you for what happened” Achilles continues.

Patroclus still can’t seem to move and he can’t tell if this changes his mood or not but he finally responds.

“O-oh, okay” Patroclus says softly.

Achilles turns from the fountain, kicking his feet not knowing what else to say to break the silence. Patroclus is in deep thoughts trying to process what the demigod has just told him. _He’s not angry with me_. It feels as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders knowing that he did not ruin Achilles’ night.

“My father tells me that you are four months older than me, I wouldn’t have guessed it” Achilles chuckles, trying to cut the awkwardness in the air.

“Ah, yes…my growth spurt doesn’t seemed to have kicked in just yet” Patroclus, now a bit more relaxed, voice cracking.

Achilles snaps his gaze from the ground and to Patroclus, narrowing his eyes toward the prince.

“You are almost as tall as my father”

Patroclus winces a bit at that, he’s always been insecure about his height, if it were up to him he’d be at least a few inches taller. Patroclus does not respond but instead nods in agreement of what Achilles had just stated. Silence befalls them once again, neither knowing what to say, the smirk on Achilles’ lips seems to be plastered there.

“So you like horses?” Achilles asks

Patroclus looks at him and nods, “Yes.” _How did he know?_

“H-how…how did you know? Patroclus asks, believing that now divine blood gave the demigod the ability to know one’s mind.

“You said at dinner that you were suited to the stables” Achilles brows furrow, trying to make sure he did remember correctly.

“o-oh yes, well … yes I do like horses”.

“Do you want to see our stables? We have quite a few horses, some are even gifts from the gods” Achilles’ smile grows and it’s bright, excited to show off what Phthia has to offer. Patroclus is visibly now more invested in the conversation. _Could they have a Pegasus? Or a horned horse? Maybe even a horse with scales from the sea?_ Nothing would surprise Patroclus at this point with Achilles and Peleus.

The two make their way through the garden and come into a path that leads down a few granite steps. Patroclus looks up to see that the sea is nearby and it is a beautiful view, the moonlight hitting the ocean tides coming in. A few seagulls’ flying head over in formations he finds elegant and graceful.  
“Here we are” Achilles says, pointing in the direction of the stable. Patroclus looks to where he is pointing and sees it and he has to stop his mouth from parting to widely. The stable had to be four or five times the size of the stables in Opus, There had to be hundreds of horses there but while he thought about it. There were a lot of Myrmidons and they were most likely going to the warriors when they’d set out for a war or something else.

They walked to the stables as Achilles whistled to himself, arms on top of his head causing his chiton to lift slight, exposing his stomach and his back even more. Patroclus tried to find anything at all to keep himself from staring at the smooth golden skin.

“This way” Achilles says as he breaks into a run to a particular stall that looks different from the others, Patroclus follows trying his best to keep up.

Once they reach the stall, Patroclus notices that the walls are much taller than the others, he’d thought maybe these were the horses gifted to Achilles from the gods.

“These are the gifts Zeus and Hera sent me a couple of years ago” Achilles’ voice is cheerful.

Patroclus just looks as Achilles is unlocking the stall door and pushing it open, when Achilles steps back, out comes two giant horses that shocked Patroclus and had him in awe. The first horse that came out of the stall was a huge black horse that was as black as night, the horses eyes were a light burgundy. The second horse was all white, as white as a cloud and its eyes were blue, both looked like giant gypsy horses by how long and lushes their manes were. “This is Xanthus and Balius” Achilles goes and reaches to brush Xanthus with his hand.

“Th-they’re…they’re huge.” Is all Patroclus can manage to say at first sight of the horses.

“Yes, they are quite big” Achilles laughs looking at Patroclus’ awe-struck expression. Achilles is now brushing both horses with each hand, rubbing them behind the ears.

“Achilles, Achilles” The horses speak.

Patroclus at this point jumps back with horror written upon his face and accidently falls backwards from tripping over a rock behind him, he lands on his butt.

“Patroclus?” Achilles looks back and begins to laugh.

“Oh I see, there’s no need to be afraid, they can speak just like you and me.”

Patroclus is still looking at them with wide eyes as Achilles goes over to offer Patroclus a hand up, “c’mon, let’s ride them across the beach”.

Achilles, still holding onto Patroclus’ hand—guides him over to the horses so that he can get a closer look.

“I-I don’t think-“Patroclus struggles

“Oh come on, Patroclus, they are harmless” Achilles looks at Patroclus and squeezes his hand as if to reassure him his safety, same mischievous smile still upon his face.

“Patroclus, Patroclus” the horses begin to now speak his name. Patroclus eyes widen and then softens as he looks into Balius’ eyes, and they’re a pure crystal blue. The horse is graceful and ducks her head for Patroclus to brush her mane. Patroclus brings his free hand to brush against the horse, “Patroclus” the horse speaks again. A smile faintly appears onto Patroclus’ face and Achilles can’t help but smile at the sight of Patroclus looking genuinely intrigued and moved by his horse. _He really does like horses._

“How are they able to speak, Achilles?” Asks Patroclus.

“The gods blessed them with speech.” Achilles says as he let’s go of Patroclus’ hand to go over to Xanthus, brushing the horse gently. Achilles looks over at Patroclus who’s still admiring Balius and brushing her as if she’s a delicate treasure.

“Alright” Achilles goes over to Patroclus and grabs him by the waste, “time to get moving”.

Patroclus yelps in surprise, being lifted by Achilles onto Balius, it happens so fast that he’s unable to protest and already sitting on the horse, ready to ride.

Achilles steps back, hands on hips and he laughs as Patroclus’ eyes are wide and his expression is one of shock, “Don’t worry, Patroclus, Balius likes you so she won’t let you fall”.

Patroclus may’ve been down at the stable in Opus on more than a few occasions throughout the years but he hadn’t ridden one in a long time. He stopped going to ride them once his mother fell ill, he’d only go to watch others ride them or to care for them, spend time with them. He’d always felt comfortable and free around them, the way they ran around the field, free of worries.

Achilles had went to quickly get onto Xanthus and he had done so effortlessly as Patroclus noticed.  
“Alright, let’s…” Achilles turns Xanthus around to take a view of their surroundings, “Let’s go from here to there”, He points to a very big stone on the beach. Patroclus still with wide eyes and a parted mouth nods, trying to still his fear of falling from the large horse and at the same time contain his buried excitement. _It’s been so long since…_

 _“If you keep moving you will fall”_ An old familiar voice rings in his head, calm and informing. Memories of him riding a horse wildly while his mother watches and laughs.

Patroclus smiles, the tension in his shoulders subsiding, Achilles turns his head to Patroclus, “You ready?” A sly smirk on his lips.

“Yes”.

The two have tapped their horses and were on their way down the beach, Achilles and Xanthus in the lead with Patroclus and Balius not so far behind. Achilles is riding with his hands up in the air as if challenging the gods to push him from the horse and into the sands. “Is he insane?” Thinks Patroclus, laughing as he holds on for dear life to Balius, leaned down, arms wrapped around Balius’ neck so not to fall. They race across and the beach, wind breezing through their hair, Patroclus cannot remember a time of recent years when he’s felt this much excitement and thrill…when he’s felt this free.

They get to the destination rock, Achilles hops off of Xanthus, stretching and waiting for Patroclus and Balius.

“You rode well” Achilles says, a smile as big as his ego from riding with no hands on Xanthus. He moves in to help Patroclus off of Balius and Patroclus looks back and goes to brush the horse once more before finding somewhere to sit, “Patroclus” the horse says again, moving into Patroclus’ touch.

“She really likes you” Achilles says and laughs.

The two princes go and sit down in the sand while the horses move about, exploring this side of the beach. Tension all but melted away by the sea smells and gentle wind.

“It’s been so long…” Patroclus starts

“It’s been so long since I’ve ridden”.

Achilles sitting back on his elbows gives him a look, wondering if he should press the topic of why he hasn’t ridden so long if he likes horses so much.

“What’s kept you from riding” He finally asks.

“Just…things” Patroclus responds, debating to himself whether or not Achilles would even be interested in all that’s went on with him during the last few years.

“Ah…I understand that” Achilles says, sighing and dropping fully to his back, arms beneath his head. His smooth, muscled stomach on full display. Patroclus looks down a moment only to snatch his gaze away quickly, face turning red.

“Y-you do?” Patroclus asks, turning back to the conversation at hand.

“Yeah, I may not look it but I’m skilled at playing the lyre but haven’t played in a few weeks”.

“Well…why not?” Patroclus, genuinely intrigued and interested at this discovery. _He can play instruments as well? What can’t he do?_

“Guess it’s because I’ve been too focused on training with the Myrmidon’s, we train every day, I also see Chiron sometimes to hone any skill I feel isn’t up to satisfaction” Achilles says casually.

“Oh, I see” Patroclus nods. _So he is also trained by Chiron…like the other hero’s._

It’s peaceful where they are, the sounds of the waves coming into shore, the sounds of many birds flying about. The moonlight shining down on them as gentle wind moves Achilles’ chiton across his chest gently. Patroclus notices the latter details a bit too much and cannot help it.

“What about you? What do you usually do back in Opus?” Achilles turns his gaze from the sky and to Patroclus.

“Oh well…there’s a lot to do really…I um, sometimes I help out at the stables that are near the palace since we don’t have one there…” Patroclus tries to think of other things he does to at least sound interesting to the demigod. In reality he really did not do much in Opus, he did not train an army of men nor did he have exceptional skill in anything, he also didn’t get to visit the legendary trainer of hero’s anytime he wished either.

“I have a lot of friends back at home though, there’s Clitonymus--his father is a member of my father’s court. We’re like brothers.” He lies.

Achilles is still looking up at him, relaxed and golden even in the night, “That must be nice, having friends”. Patroclus can feel his heart jump a little, he didn’t expect to hear that kind of tone from Achilles, a tone of longing if he wasn’t mistaken.

“Y-yeah, it’s nice to have friends”, Patroclus turns to view the sea. _It would be nice to have them._

It’s silent for a moment but there’s no awkward air there as it was before in the gardens. The ride down the beach on Xanthus and Balius had loosened Patroclus up more than he was expecting.

Patroclus slowly turns his view from the waves of the sea and to Achilles who is now staring at the stars, his piercing sea green eyes alight reflecting the many stars that sit comfortably in the sky. He points, “There’s Hermes lyre” Patroclus looks up, failing to identify the constellation.

“I cannot see it” still looking around trying to find it.

“Come here” Achilles pulls Patroclus down on his back near him, arm around his shoulder, “there”.

Patroclus feeling the warmth of Achilles around his shoulders, blushes and looks to the sky where Achilles is still pointing, “I see it”. Patroclus had never paid much attention to the stars or constellations. He’d catch his mother some nights watching the night sky but that was about it when it came to the stars.

“You can also see Orion tonight” Achilles points another direction for Patroclus to look. “They say he was a giant, you know”.

“Who was a giant?” Patroclus asks, still trying to identify Orion clearly.

“Orion and that his father was Poseidon…it was said when he died that he was placed in the stars…” Achilles trailed off. Patroclus hadn’t heard this particular tale before so he was interested when Achilles told it to him. They laid like that for some time until Achilles finally got up from the sand, sitting in a fetal position, arms around knees. Patroclus would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a bit cold now that Achilles had removed his arm. Patroclus followed suit and sat up with him.

There was a silence again, the sound of the oceans filled spaces of it. Achilles’ eyes still on the stars but his expression had changed, as if something had been bothering him.

“Wonder if they’re done in there yet” Achilles says, almost as if it was a thought that slipped passed his lips. Patroclus looks at him quizzically, confused for a moment.

“I mean, our fathers… I wonder if they’re done reliving their youthful memories” He laughs and Patroclus follows. It tickles them now that they’ve thought about how their fathers have been talking so much about the past tonight.

”I’m serious, it’s been tale after tale all night long.” Achilles says, still laughing.

“Yes, it has been all night, hasn’t it?” Patroclus responds, laughing along.

“Yeah but…soon it’ll be my time, I’ll get the chance to go and do something amazing.” Achilles’ smile grows wider, Patroclus is watching him and listening.

“Someday it’ll come my time to have praises sang unto my name, stories told about the Great Achilles.”, He’s staring at the stars, longing for his name to on the lips of the people. It not long before he turns to see Patroclus staring down at his feet, his smile weakened, faint.

He stares a moment, noticing the bags under the prince’s eyes again, “Hey…Patroclus”. Patroclus’ gaze comes up slowly to meet Achilles’, his brows high, curious as to what Achilles will ask.

“Are you…alright?”

Patroclus’ brows furrow a bit, “What do you mean?”

Achilles looks from Patroclus and to his own feet as if he’s afraid to push any further. Tonight he’s gotten to know the mysterious prince more than he’d thought he would, he doesn’t know everything but he’s heard the prince laugh, he’s seen him fall, he’s seen his face light up and he’s learned that the prince has a love for horses. _Why not ask?_

“My father told me…my father told me what happened to you in the sitting room after …you know…” Achilles looks back at him, eyes empathetic and wondering.

“Oh…I feel alright now…thanks to Phoenix, the herbs he gave me really helped me…” Patroclus tries to give a smile toward Achilles but it’s broken, he already know the cheerful visage wouldn’t work tonight so he’s unsure why he just tried that when it came to this subject.

“I’m sorry that that happened to you” Achilles says abruptly, looking at the stars again. Patroclus is staring at Achilles now, mouth slightly parted and surprised.

“My father told me how you’d only lost your mother a year ago, so you must’ve already been going through a lot before you came here.” Achilles’ facial expression is serious now, Patroclus turns his gaze quickly from Achilles and back to his feet, pressing them in the sand, hoping that the sand would swallow him, he didn’t want to talk about any of this right now.

There’s a silence for a moment before Achilles turns to Patroclus whose staring intent at his feet, his smile gone. “Oh, Oh I’m sorry, Patroclus, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay” Patroclus says outright.

Achilles is surprised, he didn’t know why he’d brought up that so suddenly but he was now regretting it because the tension was becoming quite similarly thick like it was back in the gardens.

“You know…you know it was my mother who took me to ride my first horse” Patroclus says while staring at the sands beneath his feet. Achilles is watching him, not saying anything but listening closely.

“I remember her smile as I first rode one without falling” He lets out a chuckle through the tears forming in his eyes. He opens his mouth as if to say something else but then closes it, now turning his gaze toward the view of the ocean in the moonlight. He can feel his throat closing, he’s trying not to cry…he doesn’t want to cry in front of Achilles.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Achilles…there are just some of us who are not loved by the gods”, he says while staring out toward the sea. Achilles nods, understanding full well that this is the case, the gods have their favorites, it still doesn’t make him feel any less sympathy for Patroclus, however. He sees the hurt in the prince’s eyes and he somehow feel he needs to fix it…but he does not know how.

“Have you tried giving honor to the gods?” Achilles asks, hoping he wouldn’t push the other any further.

Patroclus lets out a sad laugh before responding, “I don’t think the gods would bother listening to one such as myself.”

“How do you know, if you don’t try?” Achilles’ brows furrow, curious as to why Patroclus has never tried like many others have. Patroclus turns his gaze toward Achilles, Achilles can see a tear has already broken away from his big brown eyes. “I don’t know.” His smile is still faint and painted with grief, “I guess…I just don’t want to place my faith in anything or anyone who I’m sure won’t answer me…”

Achilles can understand that—what are the good of prayers if no one will listen or respond? He knows that the gods can be tricky and fickle as they can be kind and benevolent.

Patroclus turns back to the sea, his thoughts beginning to turn again-revisiting the death of his mother, the death of Las and the way his father’s kingdom was falling under. He closed his eyes as the breeze hit his cheeks and blew through his lushes brown locks, waiting for the moonlight shining down on him to melt away along with the sea and Achilles and for the nightmares to return. Waiting for the punishment his mind had inflicted upon him the last few nights to come along.

“He sees-“

Achilles’ voice rips through the dark thoughts and preparations for a nightmare.

“-He sees the tears you cry and he shares your pain inside, and you may wonder why he allows you to go through what you go through…”

Patroclus eyes snap open and his gaze turns to Achilles who’s looking at him. _Those piercing sea green eyes._ The smirk that is ever present on the demigod’s face is gone, his eyes sing of an empathy and a hope to sooth Patroclus in his pain and Patroclus sees that, he is shocked by the concern and the comforting words.

“Just know he has his hand on you” Achilles finishes.

Patroclus can’t seem to contain his tears but he’s holding them back the best he can.

“Will there ever be a change, Achilles?” His voice is even hoarser than it was before, cracking on every syllable. Achilles straightens himself in the position he’s in and puts a hand on Patroclus’ shoulder, “He has his hands on you, and I know he does, Zeus would not abandon someone who’s truly in need and worthy of help. He will see you through the tears and the pain”.

Achilles had been told that by his father once when he was young and it was something that’s always moved and comforted him, he figures Patroclus could use the comforting words.

The two sit on the beach for a while longer, staring out into the sea, the moon’s ever bright light shining down on them as the horses are a few feet away from them. The wind is blow and the tears are drying on the cheeks of the prince of Opus. Achilles glances at Patroclus who is gazing out at the sea, noticing every detail of the prince beside him. _He’ll see you through, Patroclus. I pray he will._

"Oh yeah...I can show you the training grounds tomorrow, since we missed it tonight" says the demigod.

\--

The next morning

“Patroclus, do you have your things together?” Menoetius asks as he’s sitting on the bed, watching the boy slip his sandals on.

“Yes, father” He says as he now goes to get the cane for his father.

“Um, father…May I ask something of you?” Patroclus hands the cane to his father who takes it but stays seated on the bed.

“What is it?” Menoetius asks casually.

“May we stay in Phthia a few more days?” Patroclus asks, voice low and soft, he knew that his father had to get back to Opus to continue his kingly duties.

Menoetius says nothing, he’s in a bit of a shock, he was sure Patroclus was ready to return home before dinner last night but now he seems to want to stay.

“Has something changed, Patroclus? I recall you not having a problem with returning home today?”

“Achilles invited me to watch the Myrmidon’s train, I was curious a-and I wanted to see them in action” Patroclus says shyly as if his father will judge him for suddenly changing his mind.

Menoetius pauses and looks around the room, eye brows high, “well…if that is what you wish, Patroclus, we can stay for about another two days before returning”.

“Really?”

“Yes, really, Patroclus…I’m certainly in no rush to travel in any case, I’d enjoy two more nights with little pressure on my leg” Menoetius says while putting his cane on the side of the bed, leaning back as if he’s about to lie back down.

“That’s great, father, I’ll go get ready to meet Achilles down at the training grounds.” Patroclus had never met someone quite like Achilles, before he’d viewed the demigod as distant and probably way above him but last night was the first night he’d laughed like he’d laughed riding those horses in a long time. He’d also remembered those words of comfort, how he’d looked into those eyes of the sea and been refreshed by kind word, How Achilles believed that he was worthy enough to be able gain Zeus’ attention. It was the highest compliment he’d ever gotten from anyone who wasn’t his parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to cut out some material so chapters won't be so long, I apologize for the long chapters guys.  
> There's just so much I want to touch on before moving on in the story, I guess I want the relationships to really pack a punch when things get tough and things really start taking form. Thanks for reading as always^^


	6. Sunsets Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All of my problems, all of my nightmares are now sunsets away, I have no worries."

“Achilles has sent word that you are to meet him at the stables of the palace”, those words rang through Patroclus’ head over and over again as he ran barefoot through the outside passages to meet Achilles only shortly after a servant visited him to deliver the message. Pass the gardens and pass the sands of the beaches they’d been on the night prior, he can smell the sea here even from where he’s running, hear the seagulls singing away to the winds that push and pull the tides. What Patroclus expected was unbeknownst to him, Phthia had one of the greatest armies in all of the world; they trained with Achilles so Patroclus wouldn’t expect to see anything less than extraordinary when he’d arrive at the training grounds.

 

Patroclus had reached the back palace stables, not to be mistaken with the other stables they’d gone to last night where Xanthus and Balius were. The horses here looked about normal size and didn’t talk, it was easy for Patroclus to tell the difference quickly. On arriving Patroclus expected to see Achilles waiting for him here but he was only met with a sight of horse trainers taming and brushing the beasts. He looked on at the horses and workers for a minute longer before turning around to search for Achilles, putting a hand to his forehead to block the scorching bright sun. It wasn’t long before horse manure reached his nostrils and he began to cover his nose as his face twisted in disgust, “gods why, why did Achilles choose to meet here of all places”, he mumbled. He looks down at his feet as though to check that he didn’t step in any horse droppings as he paced around waiting for Achilles. Patroclus all worn out from running to the stables and then standing, waiting and now pacing stops and kneels for a moment, hands clasped together between his thighs as he’s pulled his tunic up to cover his nose. He stares at the ground, at the little ants he sees running from their home out in another direction, he always wonders how ants can be so in sync with one another as he sees them marching to and from different ant holes. Minutes pass, Patroclus is still kneeling, watching ants, occasionally looking up at the sky to see clouds pass him by, while kneeling he shuffles his feet to turn his back toward the sun. _It’s getting hotter out here, where is he._

 

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already” a smooth and thick voice cuts through Patroclus’ thoughts and concerns of the sun and an absent prince. He rises and turns quickly to see Achilles, blocking the sun and watching the rays of light mingle with his golden hair. Patroclus stumbles over his thoughts on what to say, mesmerized by the sight before him, “It’s just a bit hot is all, really” he lets out a nervous chuckle. Achilles is silent for a moment, smiling at Patroclus as if he doesn’t believe him and that he truly is already tired. Patroclus looking around and fidgeting catches on and eventually speaks again, “I’m not tired, I was waiting for you” now in a serious, defensive tone. Achilles with his arms folded against his chest pauses and breaks out into a laughter. “Funny, huh?” Patroclus says, a smile sneaking onto his face. _His laughter._

“I am only joking, Patroclus” Achilles assures the shorter one, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Forgive my tardiness, I had to speak with Phoenix but now since we’re here I can take you to the training grounds, come”. Patroclus nods but barely gets a word in as Achilles is off, east of the horse stables in an entirely new direction, Patroclus follows. The two ran from the stables into a direction Patroclus was unfamiliar with and as they approached the training grounds he noted things such as multiple armories, more horse stables and bath houses for the warriors. As they neared their destination Patroclus saw just how big and grand the Myrmidonian army truly was. Patroclus’ mouth began to part as he began to see three large structures in the distance and it’s at this moment Achilles looks back to assure the wide brown eyed prince that they were closer, his sly smirk ever present while noticing Patroclus is in awe of what he sees.

 

After running for a few more seconds, Achilles abruptly stops and turns to look at Patroclus who stops suddenly also. “We are here, welcome to my place of peace”, Achilles’ smile his wide as he laughs. _I wonder if Opus has a military half as big as ours._ Patroclus begins to look in different directions, noting things, observing, he’s completely floored that all of this was something he’d not seen from the palace. “It’s…its spectacular”, Patroclus mouths. _Even more so for such a small kingdom like Phthia, what on earth could they need all of this for?_ Patroclus turns and looks behind Achilles, he’s met with the structures he had seen in the distance and his mouth and eyes widen even more. Achilles looks at Patroclus and then turns around to what the boy is amazed by. “Ah, those are our battle grounds, Phthia’s colosseums”. Achilles puts his hands on his hips while looking at the structures. He turns to see Patroclus still taking it all in, the soldiers going from one place to the other, large swords and spears being carried around, horses running freely around the area. “This is my home away from home, my domain I like to think, heh, come on I’ll show you where we’ll train for the day”. Patroclus still stunned managed to snap out of it immediately, “train? I thought we were only here to see it” confused as he was amazed just moments ago.

 

“I see it all the time” Achilles lets out a laugh, “Besides I am due to train today anyway, which is why I brought you to see the grounds, kill two birds with one stone”, that same sly smile that Patroclus is becoming very familiar with appears.

 

“Ah Achilles! There you are!” A large man in Myrmidon armor appears with a large sword in hand. Patroclus marvels at the man’s height and body, “what matter of man is he” Patroclus wonders but then again as he looked around, he’d noticed that all of the soldiers were in excellent shape, marvelously sculpted bodies as if Zeus himself…, “Oh yeah…” Patroclus thinks and remembers the tale of how the Myrmidons came to be.

 

“Eudorus!” Achilles cheers and embraces the man. “Patroclus this is one of my commanders, Eudorus”.

Patroclus regards the man for a moment, noticing the little details of his armor, bronze plating with black fabric dripping from it to cover Eudorus’ upper thighs. His shield large with a huge ant creation on it, “Hello there, Patroclus, pleasure to make this acquaintance”, Eudorus extends his arm. As if shocked, Patroclus jumps to quickly extend his arm to the large man. His grip during the handshake was strong yet careful as if Eudorus was holding his strength back so not to break Patroclus’ hand. Patroclus noticed that Eudorus had a smirk on his face when looking at him, similar to the one Achilles has had all day. When Achilles and Eudorus had turned to one another to discuss matters of the Myrmidon army, Patroclus had noticed that many of the warriors walking by would look at him with mischievous looks, as if they know something he did not.

Patroclus looked down at himself, “Have I pissed myself without knowing? Is there food on my tunic left over from when I ate earlier?” He saw nothing and was left utterly confused.

 

“Yes, Eudorus, you tell them that the second colosseum is to only be used for spear practices today, I’ve seen Peisander’s men and they could all use today and maybe all of this year to practice”, The two laugh as Eudorus walks off into the crowd of armor clad men. Patroclus regarded Achilles for a moment as the golden demigod watched as his commander disappear into the sea of ant-men. _This massive army… it’s all his._ For a brief moment Patroclus felt a spike of insecurity, he was only about three months older than the demigod but had not achieved even half of what Achilles has already. “Shall we go to our training spot?” Achilles turns to ask, Patroclus just nods, a faint effortful smile that probably failed but if it did Achilles did not say anything.

 

As the two begin to make their way pass the colosseums and warriors, Achilles slows to keep pace with Patroclus. “So does Opus have an army as big as this?” Achilles asks with that same sly smile.

“No, we do not, in fact we don’t have an army”

Achilles is stunned for a moment, “your kingdom has no army?”

“No we do not”, Patroclus said quickly, casually, there was no need to lie about his kingdom, it was small and not the richest of kingdoms but he still loved his home, there are memories there.

“So…if another kingdom attacked Opus or began an invasion, how would you all defend yourselves?” Achilles asked, puzzled.

“Achilles, if any kingdom thought of Opus as worthy of invading then I would question their sanity”, Patroclus looks at Achilles and lets out a laugh, Achilles smiles but it still confused him as to why a kingdom, no matter how poor didn’t even have 500 men at the ready for anything, Patroclus looked over to Achilles whose brows were now furrowed.

“We have a royal guard, about twenty to seventy men”, he says outright.

“I see, I guess that is something”, they both laugh.

As Patroclus was going to continue speaking, he was greeted by the sight of a boy, probably his height… no a tad shorter than himself, running toward them with what looked like two swords in each of his hands. Patroclus stopped, “Is something the matter?” Achilles turned and asked, he looked to where Patroclus was looking and just smiled. The image of the boy running toward them with what looked like two swords looked at a distance like an act of combat, Achilles figured out why Patroclus paused. “I know him, its okay” Achilles assures Patroclus.

 

“A-A-Achilles! Achilles!” The boy begins to call.

“Did you get the right ones?!” Achilles puts his hands around his mouth as if to project his voice to the boy a few feet away.

“I th-th-th-think so” the boy yells in reply.

“They aren’t that far apart, no need to scream” Patroclus thinks as he smiles to himself.

As Achilles and Patroclus kept walking the boy eventually reached them, “you got the correct ones, right?” Achilles says he abruptly takes one of the swords, which are now obviously wooden swords, and observes it, making sure it’s ripe and appropriate for sparring.

“Y-y-ye-yes, I ch-checked tw-twice” The smiling boy says in reply as he looks up at Achilles.

Patroclus walks up to get a closer view of the swords and the boy, Achilles looks toward Patroclus and motions to the boy.

“Patroclus, this is Automedon” Achilles says while then going back to observing the wooden sword in his hand. “He will someday be my charioteer and accompany me many places, isn’t that right?” Achilles then ruffles Automedon’s already messy think hair, Patroclus nods and smiles toward the boy.

“Y-y-yes! I’m go-gon-go-gonna be the best ch-ch-cha-“, Achilles ruffles his hair again, cutting him off. Automedon looks down at his feet disappointed he could not finish his sentence.

“He’s gonna be the best charioteer the world has ever seen, Patroclus.” Achilles looks over to the brown eyed prince and back at Automedon who’s now smiling, head held high. Automedon was about an inch or two shorter than Patroclus, looked to be around 14 or 15. He was a bit stocky but had a handsome face. Patroclus noticed the gap between his two front teeth when he smiled but where others would probably mock the kid, Patroclus found it adorable. The kid seemed to have a stuttering problem as well.

Automedon turned to look at Patroclus, “H-he is th-the bo-boy?” He asked Achilles while eyeing Patroclus in awe. Achilles also turned to Patroclus, “Yep, that’s him” a sly smile still plastered on the demigod’s face.

 

“Am I what boy?” Patroclus squints his eyes and asks.

“Yo-you kil-killed the so-so-sol”

“You killed the Athenian soldier, Patroclus, everyone knows about it” Achilles cut off Automedon once again, earning an innocent frown from the young boy.

_That explains it, why Eudorus and all the other men were looking at me that way…_

 

“That’s why they were looking at you the way they were” Achilles says mischievously.

“I see”, Patroclus says, trying to hide his blush. _They must think me an animal._

“C-c-can yo-you sho-show me?” Automedon asks Patroclus, “Show you what exactly?” Patroclus replies confusingly.

“He wants to see how you took down that Athenian soldier but to be fair most of my men would” Achilles says smiling as he begins walking down the path to their training spot.

Automedon’s eyes are locked onto to Patroclus and Patroclus is looking at boy as well, they regard each other for a moment, “Yo-you don’t look li-li-like a warrior”, Automedon finally says. “That may be because I am not one” Patroclus says as he chuckles. Automedon gives him a large smile that seemed contagious because Patroclus gave a large and mischievous smile back at him. They catch up with Achilles and they all begin to head to their destination. They walk through grassy path which turns into dirt and then sand under their feet. _The beach, of course._ Patroclus should’ve known that the training spot of Achilles would be the beach though it was miles up from the spot they were just the night before. Here at this end of the beach, there were less rocks arounds, less large rocks. Achilles threw down the wooden sword and started off on a sprint down the beach, Automedon ran to pick up the sword and sat it down with the spear and shields that were already there before they’d arrived.

 

“Where is he going?” Patroclus walks up to Automedon.

“H-he is warming u-u-up” Automedon turns to Patroclus and then toward where Achilles was running.

Achilles made it looks effortless, how his legs would move so elegantly, his feet swiftly, how he covered two miles in seconds and came back for another round. _This is Achilles._

When Achilles finished, he went over and drank from one of the leather pouches that contained water. Patroclus watched him as Automedon sorted out the weapons, preparing for training.

“Does he train you?” Patroclus turns to Automedon, “s-s-sometimes” Automedon replies. Patroclus noticed that Automedon’s talking lessened, like he didn’t want to speak too much. _It’s alright, Automedon._ Patroclus had figured that Automedon was comfortable to speak around Achilles and that since they’d just met that maybe Automedon thinks that Patroclus would look down on him, mock him for his stuttering.

“Hey!” Patroclus and Automedon turn around quickly at Achilles’ voice.

“Why don’t we get started, Patroclus pick up one of those swords”, Achilles says as he walks over to grab a wooden sword as well. “Eh? What are we…?” Patroclus confused as to what’s happening.

“C’mon, hurry before we lose our high noon sun”, Achilles says while smirking.

 _Don’t tell me I’m sparring with him._ Patroclus walks over to grab a sword. “Okay, you go and stand over there, near where that plant is”, Achilles instructs Patroclus. “Alright”, Patroclus goes over and stands near the plant. _It’s just sparring, it can’t be that bad._ While waiting Patroclus sees Achilles with Automedon, they seem to be trying to pick the perfect practice sword even though to Patroclus they all look the same.

“Okay”, Achilles says while turning around to face Patroclus, “This is just basic sparring, learning your opponent, making sure you become aware of not leaving blind spots in your technique and movements”, Achilles begins to explain, “You see this drawn circle in the dirt? Step out and you lose the round, if your opponent forces you out, there’s a point in it for your opponent”. Patroclus can feel the adrenaline begin to rush through him. _Okay, okay, okay, this is fairly simple._ Patroclus gets in his combat stance, “Just a little something I’ve picked up watching the royal guard in Opus trade hits when they were on their breaks”, he thinks. Achilles eyes him still with the smirk on his face. _More surprises from the ‘non warrior’ prince._ Achilles then folds his arms against his chest and Automedon steps forward with the sword in his hand.

Patroclus freezes, “Autodemon?”

“Yes, you’ll be sparring with Automedon”, Achilles says with a mischievous grin.

Patroclus’ brows are furrowed when he attempts to question Achilles again but is interrupted, “Your form leaves something to be desired, Patroclus. Or maybe it’s just that I’m not familiar with it, I’d like to observe if that’s okay with you?” Achilles asks.

Patroclus shuffles his feet uncomfortably, “Sure.”

“Oh and don’t go easy on Automedon, I, myself, have been training him for some time now.” Achilles walks closer to the pair and looks closely at them, studying their stances, watching where their hands are on the sword hilts, how their elbows are positioned.

“Move it in, Automedon”, Achilles walks up to Automedon, “And push in your foot”, he moved Automedon’s foot with his own, arms still crossed. Patroclus hadn’t seen Achilles look so serious since he’d met him.

“Alright, whenever you two are ready”.

 

Patroclus feels as if he’s frozen, _I don’t want to hur-_ , Before Patroclus could even finish his thoughts, Automedon lunges at him, swinging and dashing for him. “Ahugh...ah”, Patroclus is taken aback, Automedon is more agile than he looks and being trained by Achilles is also a bit of an advantage. Achilles stands by, his grin growing wider. _I’ve trained Automedon myself, there’s no way Patroclus can easily best him._

Automedon charges at Patroclus and Patroclus moves swiftly out of his way, _you’ve doomed yourself_. If Achilles thought Patroclus was a novice at swordplay, he was sorely mistaken. As Automedon rounded Patroclus, Patroclus surprisingly stood completely still and struck Automedon quickly and forcefully on his arm, making Automedon drop his sword.

“Stop”, Achilles says from the sidelines.

“Patroclus is the victor”, Achilles says as he walks toward Automedon ruffling his hair, “There’s still some foot work you have to work at but you’re getting better”, Achilles says to the boy.

“Y-ye-yes, Achilles”, Automedon’s smile reappears, gap ever visible. Patroclus, panting, goes over and takes a drink of water from one of the leather sacks.

“You’re not tired are you, Patroclus?” Achilles asks while picking up Automedon’s sword. Patroclus turns to see Achilles getting into a stance ready to spar.

“Just you and me this time” Achilles says, motioning for Patroclus to return within the drawn circle in the sand. Patroclus could swear there’s fire in Achilles’ eyes, battle is truly where he feels at home or so it seems that way to Patroclus as Achilles corrects the way his right foot is set.

Patroclus walks into the circle and takes his stance with his sword in hand, “ready when you are”, _He’s fast but I’m probably smarte_ r. Achilles begins moving sideways as if he’s trying to circle Patroclus and so Patroclus begins to move parallel to Achilles, so not to give him any advantage, Achilles begins to taught, lashing his sword outward toward Patroclus as he’s still moving and circling around. Automedon watches while he’s by the weapons.

“Yah!” Achilles steps forward and rounds his sword to peck Patroclus at his side, Patroclus jumps and quickly moves diagonally around to the edge of the circle. He got me, _he’s faster than I thought, smarter too._ They went on circling each other for a few minutes and Automedon became even more invested, watching the great Achilles stare down and spar with the boy who cut down an Athenian solder with one blow.

“Oomph!” Patroclus kicks up sand as it blows in the wind in Achilles’ face and he makes his jab toward Achilles’ shoulder, Achilles’ moves sideways and back in the blink of an eye.

“You!-“Achilles says as he’s now got sand in his eyes, Patroclus is now circling him again. _Maybe that was a bit much._ Achilles lunges at Patroclus and Patroclus lunges toward Achilles but shifts his sword toward Achilles’ toe, As Achilles hits Patroclus’ shoulder he feels his toe hit and quickly catches himself before going outside of the drawn circle.

“D-Draw” Automedon says from the sidelines.

“You’re kidding” Achilles says as he grins, still circling Patroclus, Patroclus was confused for a moment but realized it was Automedon trying to throw them off.

“I’m not going easy on you …starting now” Achilles says, his grin getting wider.

“Come then” Patroclus says as he lunges for Achilles, the demigod runs head on as well but at the last second Patroclus ducks and rolls thinking that would throw Achilles off but it didn’t, as Patroclus rolled Achilles used force as soon as Patroclus found his way to his knee and pushed him out of the circle.

“Woo-hoo, Achilles is the victor!” Automedon cheers. Patroclus, now tired is pretty happy with his sparring performance. _A demigod and I just sparred, heh._

“Hey…” Achilles walks over to Patroclus and extends him a hand to help him up. “Again”, Patroclus says. The three take turns sparring with one another for hours, Achilles against Patroclus, Patroclus against Autodemon, Automedon against Achilles, They went on and on, learning each other’s movements.

Eventually all three end up sitting sweaty and tired in the sand, staring out into the ocean. “Hey Patroclus, where did you learn how to fight?” Achilles asks out of the blue.

“In Opus” Patroclus replied, jokingly.

“I mean, who taught you?” Achilles says while laughing.

The sky no longer a pale blue but a dark orange with thick lines of clouds drifting by, this was one of many sunsets to come for the three together.

“M-ma-maybe he taught hi-himself?” Automedon chimes in.

“I actually learned with my friend from back home, Clitonymus”. _I’m technically not lying, I spent majority of my childhood fighting with him._ “But I also learned from watching palace guards outside, who’d spar when off duty”, Patroclus said as he took in the deep warm colors of the sky.

“Ahh” Achilles replied, falling back into the sand to view the sky.

Automedon copied him and began pointing out the clouds, “h-hey I s-s-see a na-naked woman”, he says.

“No you don’t”, Achilles replies.

“Ye-yeah I do, l-look there”

“Where”

“Th-that one right th-there”

“Auto, that’s more like a…sword”

“n-no its not”

Patroclus still staring at the sea listens to the two bickering and laughing over clouds, the wind hits his face, blowing through his thick brown locks, he smiles. He could get used to this.

____________________________

 

“Patroclus is that you?” Menoetius awakes in his bed while Patroclus creeps into the room as the moon is perched high in the sky. “Yes, father, forgive me for being so late”.

Menoetius ignores Patroclus’ apology, he can see even through sleepy eyes that Patroclus is smiling, he props himself up on the bed and pats next to himself for Patroclus to sit. “What did you all do at the training grounds to keep you all day?” he asked.

“Well… we sparred is all, really” Patroclus said, looking down at his tunic.

Menoetius nodded as if he was waiting to hear more.

“I also saw their colosseums, there’s three of them, not very big but they’re there…”

“Colosseums? Well that is something, isn’t it?” Menoetius gives a hardy chuckle followed by a bit of a cough.

“Yeah…yeah it is, and you know the myrmidons, you have to see their armor, father, it truly is spectacular. I also met a boy today, Achilles’ charioteer, Automedon. Achilles himself trains him”.

Patroclus went on and on and on as his father sat and listened, the first time in a long time where he felt Patroclus was truly enjoying himself. This was a complete 180 from the boy a day ago or the boy he’s been watching carry sorrow since his mother passed. They sat up for hours, Patroclus doing most of the talking, Menoetius sitting there trying not to nod off into his dreams but eventually he did and Patroclus laid him down.

Over the next two days, Patroclus would choose to stay in Phthia while his father returned to Opus.

“Are you sure you want to stay, Patroclus?”

“Yes, father, I will be fine and I will be home soon, there’s just things I want to learn and explore here before I return”.

“Very well then, I trust that you will be in very good hands here with Peleus and Achilles”. Peleus and Achilles were there as well to send Menoetius off back to Opus. “It’s been wonderful, my old friend” Peleus pulls Menoetius into a hug, “You get back safely to Opus, write me when you’re all settled in” Peleus says.

“Thank you for your hospitality, old friend and I trust you will take care of Patroclus while he’s here”.

“Of course, don’t worry yourself over anything now” Peleus says with laughter, the two hug again. Menoetius turns to Patroclus, smiling and looking brighter than he has in months. “My son, you will return home, won’t you?” his weary and tired eyes on Patroclus.

“Of course I will, father, until then you just make sure you get rest and to take your herbs”. Patroclus steps forward to hug his father.

“Heh, look who’s taking care of who now, how the tables have turned, be well my son.”

Menoetius turns and is escorted with help from guards onto his horse. Patroclus waves his goodbye as he sees his father and the guards head off for Opus. _Soon I’ll be there, father._

 

**Opus**

Menoetius upon returning to Opus had many things to attend to, financial business, trading with other kingdoms, the usual quarrels within the court. He was swamped with work and with meetings daily as he tried to keep a hold onto his health.

“My king, may I enter?”

“Yes, Amphidamas, come in” Menoetius sitting in his private chambers stirring an herbal mix to drink.

“What can I do for you, old friend?”

“My king…I wanted to come to you in private so as to show you that I am on your side in all of this”. Amphidamas says in a low tone.

Menoetius regards him for a moment and sets his cup on the window sill, “what troubles you so, Amphidamas?” he asks simply and calmly.

“…You know what I ask of you, my king” Amphidamas begins to show frustration at Menoetius’ calmness. He stands and paces the room as Menoetius begins to speak. There was always an air of intensity between the two and it was somewhat inherited by their children, Patroclus and Clitonymus.

“The court feels you are unfit to continue ruling this kingdom, we are failing. Our crops are dying at an alarming rate. Kingdoms who trade with us are threatening to cut ties altogether, you’re not in the best state to rule, my king”, Amphidamas proclaims.

Menoetius walks from the window and sits down in his chair, “worries get us nowhere, Amphidamas, what will happen, will happen. No matter who is ruling and who is no-“

“Menoetius!” Amphidamas cuts him off.

“You are not fit to rule at this point, Menoetius, we both know it”.

Menoetius regards the man for but a moment, “Regardless of my health, Amphidamas, my son will return and when he does, I will then retire, that is my final word on the matter, and you can tell the court that worrying about the future and wellbeing of the kingdom is admirable but unnecessary”.

“You do not know when Patroclus will return, he has been gone nearly two months as of now and let’s be honest, he’s never quite been-“

“Quite been what, Amphidamas?” Menoetius’ hand curls into a ball, as if ready to hit something or someone. Amphidamas opens his mouth once more and then closes it.

“Apologies, my king, I overstep my boundaries.” Amphidamas says while bowing his head. “Yes once again, you have doubted me and my family.”

“Apologies again”

“It’s of no bother, you may go”

“Yes, my king, I’ll also have servants bring more herbs to you since your cup must be nearly empty”

Menoetius takes the last drink out of the cup, “Thank you, you may go”.

________________________

The days had turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Patroclus had stayed in Phthia to continue training with Achilles and Automedon. He had gotten the taste for battle now, he’d looked forward to every day of every hour of sparring, talking with the Myrmidon commanders. He’d come to know a lot of warriors in the army by first name bases. That spike of insecurity that wiggled within him had blossomed into inspiration. He’d seen what Achilles had, how Achilles managed it all. He wanted to make Opus as great as Phthia was. Sure he was no demigod and sure the god’s ignored him and his family for his entire life but he’d make it happen somehow. He wanted to believe what Achilles had told him of Zeus and how he may truly be looking down on him and his father.

 

The three boys sat in the sand, watching a deep orange sky above them one evening, clouds running away with the wind.

Achilles had drifted off into a nap while Automedon counted clouds and Patroclus ran through his thoughts.

“Pa-Pa-Patroclus?”

“Yeah, Auto?” Patroclus turns his head to view Automedon.

“Wh-What is it like in op-op-o-“

“Opus?” Patroclus chuckled

“Hey!” Automedon reached over to hit Patroclus in his side, “B-But yeah, I-I th-think I want to vi-vi-visit someday”.

“Really?” Patroclus’ face practically lit up at the thought of Automedon wanting to visit his home, Opus wasn’t exactly a paradise destination but it was a nice homely little kingdom. Everyone knew each other, there wasn’t a lot of crime, sure there were a lot of problems with food for many residents or crops drying out but it was something that Patroclus thought couldn’t be easily handled.

“Ye-Yeah, sh-show me someday”

“Very well, I will show you the river next to the palace, it’s where I go to think”, Patroclus shifts his head back to the sky, he begins to wonder.

“Hey auto, where are you from” he asks.

“I-I gr-grew up h-he-here, s-so th-this is my home even th-though I-I do-do-don’t kn-know my parents” Auto says casually.

Patroclus had figured that Automedon did not know his parents from how he’s treated here, Achilles as the big brother and every Myrmidon knowing the boy and taking care of him. Automedon has only stayed in the palace up to when he was six and when he discovered the training grounds, he began to go day in and day out until he decided he wanted to be a warrior but then he’d falling in love with horses and eventually wanted to become a charioteer.

“I-It must be n-n-nice to kn-know where yo-you come from” Automedon says suddenly.

Patroclus jerks his head from the sky again and toward Automedon, “Auto, Phthia is your home and the Myrmidons are your family, you’re quite lucky”.

“Y-You think?” He asks, fumbling with his fingers against his chest as he viewed the clouds, still counting in his head.

“I know”, Patroclus says, reaching over to ruffle the younger ones hair.

Patroclus knows all too well what it feels like to feel like the world is against him, like the gods have loathed him from birth but here was Automedon who didn’t even know his parents, whose loved by so many, even by Achilles himself. It made Patroclus think and appreciate even more the home that he’d return to very soon. He was getting homesick the last few days and the conversation with Automedon told him that it was time to return to Opus…to his father.

_I have to thank Achilles and Peleus for all they’ve done for me, how they’ve accepted me into their home and changed my perception._

_I won’t be led into darkness again, I won’t succumb to the sadness that engulfed me before._

 

“My king? May I come in?” A servant asks.

“Why yes, you may”

“I have the herbal drink prepared for you”

“Thank you”

 

_I have so much to live for, so much to fight for, this is only the beginning not only for me but for Opus._

 

Menoetius takes the cup with him to his bedside.

 

_Father will be proud of me once I help turn things around for the Kingdom, I’ll build up our army myself._

 

He sits up on his bed, cane at his side and begins to drink his herbal juice. Something to soothe the aches they said.

 

_Being here, with Achilles and Automedon every day, sitting here in this sand watching the sun take shelter back behind the horizon everyday…_

 

He takes three sips before eventually his hands begin to shake and he drops the cup onto the floor, hands trembling, he grabs his neck in pain, “Wh-what”. His voice hoarse and fading.

 

_All of my problems, all of my nightmares are now sunsets away, I have no worries._

 

His life flashes before his eyes; “Sthenele, Patroclus, My kingdom… Sthenele” his mind running away with him.

 

_Father, wait for me, I’ll be there soon and you won’t have to carry these burdens alone any longer._

A silence falls in the private chambers of the King of Opus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys please forgive me for the long hiatus, I actually had half of the chapter written months ago but ya'know, life and all that.  
> But yeah, this chapter was pivotal and leads to the first major story arc, hope you all enjoyed! ^_^


	7. Thank You, For Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you”
> 
> “For what?”
> 
> “For everything”

 “How is he?” a question comes in a rough voice, struggling to maintain its volume as blood gurgled from the Titan’s mouth. Thetis stands in front of him as the large fowl beast of a bird tears away at his insides. Chains so tightly holding him that the flesh around those bonded areas is noticeably beginning to tear into bloodied pinkness. His legs trembling as pools of blood spill from him and create mini rivers within the cracks of the cliffs floor.

A moment passes on the high up lonely cliff before she speaks, “He grows”. The sea nymph stares at the sight before her, face unmoving. The Titan releases low sounds of what sound like dying cattle to the ears. _He grows_. A faint smile appears as blood continues to spill from his mouth, Thetis fades into mist and leaves the Titan to his torture. These meetings had become routine for the past 18 years now for the both of them.

After Thetis departs, the torture continues, the giant bird tearing away at its eternal meal, forever having its thirst quenched. The Titan is motionless as the beak plunges over and over into his belly-His facial expression is one of a broken man, his cries are but muffles at this point, the sun beginning to set as blood continues to pour and flow. _For your deceit and conspiring against the gods-_ He remembers. _Your punishment shall be eternal and without mercy!_ Memories and reliving of those last moments of freedom coming to him as routinely as the bird did when his belly healed anew to once again begin the everlasting process of torture.

His head hangs low, he remembers. _Fire._

He remembers the men he greeted as he descended from the heavens with a gift. _I’d given them fire._

He’d remembered the looks of awe upon the men he’d come across in that peaceful and cool night, wrapped in their wools and furs, having known only darkness in the midnight hour. _I’d given them fire._

He remembers the men with their families dancing around like children to the great new light in their world, Joy written upon their faces. _I’d given them fire._

His head still dangling toward the ground enduring the everlasting pain, he’s slowly brought back to being thrown from heaven onto this rock. _I’d given them fire._

He often wonders if this was all worth it, doubting if he truly did help mankind. Falling into despair at times after seeing that nothing has changed with the way the gods and mankind behave, “was it all really worth it?” He’d think things such as this at times when the pain and loneliness became too much.

_He grows._

He remembers the nymphs words, a savior thought to the despair welling within him. _That’s right._

He musters the mental strength to continue paying the blood price for his past deeds, hanging onto the words of Thetis.

_I’d given them fire and now I give them you._

\--

 

 

    It was an early crisp morning in Phthia where Patroclus had awoken in his guest room, eyes fluttering open facing the window as the newly risen sun poured its light over his bed. He lies there for a few moments longer than he would normally. Staring at the ceiling thinking of home and his father, the day had come for him to return to Opus. A breeze blowing through the window and over him, combing through his hair and lifting the edge of the sheets covering his body as it passed through the room. _Today is going to be a beautiful day-_ he smiles and falls back into a slumber.

A knock is heard in his room accompanied with a familiar voice he’d become accustomed to during his stay, “Patroclus, breakfast has been set in the main room, whenever you are ready”. He’d had the same servant tend to him the entire trip. Half sleep Patroclus finally gets up and goes over to the basin to wash up, he puts on his tunic, the one his mother had made. _I’m going home today._ A jolt of excitement rushing through him before he steps outside of his room and makes his way to the dining room of the palace.

“Ah, Patroclus, you have finally come down from Olympus I see”, Peleus says as he sees the brunette enter the room, the man despite his age would recognize him in a dim lit room the size of a colosseum Patroclus thinks, Peleus was somewhat of a marvel being able to recognize Patroclus all the way across this large room.

Patroclus makes his way toward the front table that’s currently sitting Peleus, phoenix, other advisors that Patroclus has not had the chance to get to know that well and also-he continues to look down the table. _Achilles._

“Patroclus” Achilles calls and motions for him to sit next to him.

“Good morning, Achilles” Patroclus says with a smile as he sits next to the golden prince.

“You are in very high spirits today” Achilles says, a mischievous smirk on his face as he begins to dig into one of the five plates sat before him and him alone.

“Yes, I would say I am” Patroclus says before he muffles a laugh at the amount of food Achilles has in front of him, the demi-god ate like no other person Patroclus had ever met.

“We will go to the training grounds today before you leave, Patroclus, there is someone who wants to bid you farewell”.

Patroclus knew very well who it was and part of him dreaded leaving his new friend, the boy with the snaggle tooth smile and innocent nature, Patroclus had gotten quite used to someone showing their excitement to see him every day.

As breakfast was coming to an end, Achilles and Patroclus had slipped away. Past the gardens, the bath houses, the armories and horse stables, they’d approached the colosseums and the thousands of Myrmidonian warriors bustling around from colosseum to bathhouse or from an armory to a horse stable. A busy day as usual for the ever training men of Achilles’ army, a sight that had become inspiration to Patroclus as he continued to stay here in Phthia.

As they walked toward their usual training spot where they and Automedon sparred for the last few months Patroclus had greeted Eudorus casually when seeing the large man, also smiling and waving to other commanders and soldiers such as Menesthius and Peisander- he had come to know a lot of the soldiers on first name bases-where he was once a stranger, he was now familiar and quite well liked among the ant warriors.

“P-Patroclus!” Called a familiar voice.

“Good morning, Automedon” Patroclus responded as he ruffled the younger ones already messy hair. Automedon was already sweating with dirt all over his tunic. Patroclus knew it was because Automedon had been out here since sunrise doing chores and probably rough playing with the soldiers.

Patroclus looked around and became confused when he didn’t see their usual set up of weapons and training equipment, he thought they’d at least train on his last day. Achilles walked over to the large tree away from Patroclus and Automedon and leaned on it while taking in the beautiful day.

“H-hey Pat” Automedon said as he held his arms behind himself.

Patroclus looked quizzically at him, “What is it?”

“T-T-This is your l-last day here s-so I thought I’d give you this” Automedon moves his hands from behind himself and there lies something in the palms of his hands.

“… Automedon” Patroclus’ voice is barely audible.

Automedon had held out a bracelet made from what seemed to be very strong vines with purple and pink flowers Patroclus had not ever seen before intertwined in it.

“I-I made it yesterday”

Patroclus picks up the bracelet gently from the palms of the boys hands and studies for a moment, in awe of such work.

“It’s for you to k-keep when yo-you are in Opus”

Automedon notices Patroclus studying the bracelet with wide eyes in silence.

“The fl-flowers are from Phthia’s anemone f-fields” Automedon holds up his wrist, “I h-have one too”. Patroclus looks up from his bracelet to the one Automedon’s wrist.

“A-Achilles does too” Automedon begins to smile brightly pointing over to the smirking prince leaning against the tree who also lifts his wrist to show off his own bracelet.

Patroclus had not noticed it this morning at breakfast. _Had he just put it on?_

Patroclus pushed away irrelevant questions and turned his gaze back to this gift given to him. Automedon smiling at him took the bracelet from Patroclus’ hands, “here” he takes Patroclus’ left wrist and puts the bracelet on for him.

“T-This way n-n-no matter where w-we are-“

The sound of Automedon’s voice ceased as Patroclus looked at the boy in front of him, his large snaggle toothed smile. Patroclus had never been given such a gift perhaps because he had never had real friends. _Friends._

Patroclus’ throat began to close as he pushed down this overwhelming feeling trying to rush over him while his vision partly blurred.

“Thank you, Automedon” He said softly to the younger boy with a smile, Automedon nodded, his smile dying out. “W-well, I h-h-have m-more chores to do t-today” Automedon said as he waved his hand to Patroclus, turning away from Patroclus and jogging in the direction they all come from, luckily he was able to hide the tears welling up in his eyes.

Patroclus watched as the boy disappeared over the hill and looked at his bracelet.

“Nice isn’t it? Automedon has a real talent for crafts” Achilles says, walking over to Patroclus while also admiring the bracelet on his wrist.

Achilles notices Patroclus staring hard at his own and the sadness that seems to be showing itself on his face.

“He never has chores during this time…” Patroclus says in a low voice, almost in a whisper.

A silence falls around the two, the three of them had grown closer than they’d admit.

Achilles finally reaches out and puts a hand on Patroclus’ shoulder, “he’ll be alright”. Giving Patroclus a reassuring smile as the other finally looked up from his bracelet and at the golden prince. A few moments pass as Achilles stretches his arms out to once again embrace the breeze brushing over the both of them.

“Hey Pat”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t we go see them again?” Achilles putting a very heavy emphasis on _them_.

_Them?_

It takes Patroclus a moment to register who Achilles is talking about before his face brightens up. The two give mischievous looks toward one another before running off and eventually racing each other to their next destination.

They arrive at the stable that is unlike all of the other stables around the palace, the one near the beach, the one that Patroclus recognizes immediately as he sees it, the one that reminds him of the start of his pleasant visit in Phthia.

“I win” Achilles says as he stops abruptly in front of the stable, Patroclus trailing a ways behind him.

“Yes, you’ve won... again” The two laugh as Patroclus bends to place his hands on his knees in order catch his breath.

Achilles stretches his arms again and puts them behind his head, turning toward where the sun is, his back now facing Patroclus. The view from where Patroclus is seems almost like something from a painting or a dream, he looks up and marvels at the sight. The golden boy shining almost as brightly as the sun itself, the two together making for a spectacular view. It’s a very brief moment but one that ingrains itself into Patroclus’ mind.

He snaps out of it when Achilles turns back around and heads for the stable, he follows him. The stable looks very different this time around-the last time he’d been here was during the night with Achilles and so he could not make out the details at that time that he can now. Seeing the intricate designs on the stalls, wrapping around pillars and walls of the stable, he marvels at them for a moment before Achilles interrupts his thoughts.

“Old friends” Achilles says, laughter in his voice as he’s seen guiding both Xanthus and Balius over to Patroclus.

“Patroclus, Patroclus” Balius says slowly galloping toward Patroclus, leaning her head down as if inviting him to pet her and feel her mane.

“It’s been quite a while, Balius” He brushes her mane and admires the abnormally large horse, whose mane is as white as snow and eyes as blue as the sea.

“I figured we’d ride one last time before you went back to Opus” Achilles said as he slung himself effortless and elegantly onto the back of Xanthus, a smirk upon his face as usual.

It wasn’t so long before the two were racing down the white sands of the beach as the breeze hit and enveloped them. Achilles still riding the same as he did during that first night they had ridden together, hands up in the air recklessly Patroclus thought.

Patroclus liked this, the sand, the sea, the sun and the wind all giving way for a euphoric experience. Not to mention the prince in front of him on that black large horse whose mane shimmered in the sunlight.

Patroclus with arms wrapped around Balius’ lower neck couldn’t stop smiling and he began to feel the adrenaline, he began to think back on what he’d done here in Phthia, he was feeling joy-true joy for the first time since his mother passed.

Achilles had slowed Xanthus down to match up with Patroclus and Balius’ speed, the two were now side by side.

“C’mon Patroclus, like this!” Achilles said with his arms up.

Patroclus looked up at the prince and shook his head while laughing, “Are you crazy?”

Achilles’ grin is wide and bright, “like this!” he says again.

Patroclus stares at Achilles for a moment. _All that light in one boy._

He thought of his mother, his father and Opus.  
He thought about Las. He thought about the nightmares he’d overcome in the last few months, then the many days he’d shared with Achilles and Automedon. The many sunsets the three had set on the beach making jokes, looking at clouds and eating figs. He thought about how he’d go back to Opus and make it as great as a kingdom as Phthia.

He looked back up at Achilles who was eyes was closed and arms still raised high.

He then looked down at the bracelet Automedon had given him.

Achilles had opened his eyes moments later to check on Patroclus who’d gone silent only to find the brunette slowly lifting one of his hands.

“Hey!” Achilles yelled, staring excitedly at Patroclus and Patroclus couldn’t help but briefly glance over to Achilles with a wide smile on his face. _I’m going to do it._

Patroclus took a moment to balance himself, one arm still raised. _I’m going to lead Opus to glory._

The hooves of the two horses speeding up as wind hit the two princes smiling faces. _I’m going to make father proud._

His other arm begins to lift.

“WAH-HOO!” Achilles screams cheering on Patroclus, egging the brunette on.

Patroclus concentrated and in his thoughts moves to change posture, putting both hands back on Balius neck to do so. _I’ll do all of this and show them._

Memory flashes of his mother, Achilles and Automedon run through his head in that split second.

When finally positioned to his liking, he starts again raising his left arm slowly and then his right hand until both are dangling freely in the air.

“Wah-hoo!!?” He screams trying to imitate Achilles but not quite sure he got it right, Achilles laughs.

“WAH HOO!” Achilles screams again looking at the other and again turning forward, he keeps on until Patroclus screams with the same passion as he does, “WAH HOO!” Patroclus gets the feel of this free feeling. Nothing can hold him as he lets go right here and right now.

The two continue to ride down the beach, wind running through their hair, smiles as big and bright as the sun that’s beginning to set.

Moments later after racing down the beach, the two had sat in the sand of the beach. Patroclus had noticed right away this is where they sat the night after supper when he’d first rode on Balius. The sky was a combination of shades of orange and bright pink.

“It was a really nice day today” Achilles said as he laid down in the sand now staring up at the clouds, hands behind his head.

“It was” Patroclus followed Achilles’ actions.

He began to think back again to his first night out here, the cool gentle breeze much similar to now, the starry sky that was now replaced by beautiful sunset… And also those kind and comforting words.

_Just know he has his hand on you_

“Thank you”

Achilles whose eyes had closed as he relaxed on the beach snapped open and he looked to his side to see the brunette staring at the sky.

“For what?”

“For everything”

Achilles knew what he meant, Patroclus was broken before he got here and the Las situation had broken the brunette down even more but he’d seen a change in Patroclus the last few months, a change that greatly pleased him.

There was a silence between the two for a moment before Achilles spoke up.

“What do you plan to do when you get back to Opus?”

“Take care of my father…make Opus a better place, a place people from all over talk about” Patroclus then looked at Achilles, “Sort of like Phthia”.

Achilles smiles at this, “If anyone can do it, it’s you, Patroclus”.

The grin on the brunettes face widens as he hears Achilles’ words, things have changed and for the better, he closed his eyes, starting to imagine a new Opus, becoming a son his father could be proud of.

Achilles slowly turned toward the brunette, his smile fading and eyebrows falling into a concerned position staring at Patroclus for longer than he’d realized. He’d noticed little details in the brunette’s face such as the small beauty mark under his eye, the way the wind caressed his brown hair beautifully. _You deserve to be happy._

 

 

\--

 

 

“Patroclus, it has been a true pleasure having you here” Peleus says standing outside the palace bidding a farewell to prince of Opus.

“I cannot thank you enough for all you have done for me, Peleus” Patroclus bows to the man before being stopped midway and pulled into a warm embrace, lasting for a moment.

“You are always welcomed here in my kingdom, here in Phthia”.

With that Patroclus was on his horse surrounded by four other horses with Myrmidonian soldiers on them, ready to escort him back home. Patroclus looked around at the people bidding him farewell. Peleus, Phoenix, and other house advisors he still did not know too well. He looked a bit more to see the tall demigod standing there with a warm smile on his face as he stood golden in front of the sunset, Patroclus could not take his eyes away from him in that moment. _Thank you._

_“What about you? What do you usually do back in Opus?”_

_“Oh well…there’s a lot to do really…I um, sometimes I help out at the stables”_

_Thank you._

_“You can also see Orion tonight, they say he was a giant, you know”_

_“Who was a giant?”_

_“Orion and that his father was Poseidon…it was said when he died that he was placed in the stars…”_

_Thank you._

_“He has his hands on you, and I know he does, Zeus would not abandon someone who’s truly in need and worthy of help”_

_Thank you._

Standing there in all of his glory and brightness. _For everything._

Patroclus and his escorts eventually got a move on as the palace watched the prince disappear into the sunset with his escorts. Making their way through the city and to the road they’d travel to get to Opus, it would a three day trip. Patroclus’ smile not wavering for even a second, he was ready to see home again for the first time since his mother had passed, hell, he’d even been excited to see Clitonymus. This was the beginning of a new era for him and Opus, with his new found confidence and drive-he would make sure of it.

The days passed and the journey was made without many problems, Patroclus and the retinue of Myrmidons had reached the entrance of Opus.

“Home” Patroclus muttered under his breath, they’d began to ride through the city and Patroclus began to see things about the kingdom he hadn’t seen before or maybe wasn’t looking hard enough to see.  There were children running around the main square, vendors and the bustling of people buying fruits, fabrics and other things. Opus didn’t come close to the grandeur of other kingdoms but it was enough for Patroclus in that moment.

“We’re here” Patroclus says as they approach the palace, “you don’t have to go any further”.

“Thank you for all you’ve done”, Patroclus said with a nod.

“All we did was guide you here, Prince Patroclus” One of the soldiers said with a hint of a laugh.

Patroclus had come to know them quite well during their journey, had even made a promise to visit them when he was back in Phthia. Patroclus bid farewell to the soldiers and began approaching the palace. The sky was a crystal clear blue, breeze washing over Patroclus as it had done the whole day. As he got closer to the palace, he noticed it looked a tad different to him but nothing had changed with the exterior and then again, everything about Opus had looked different to him now, it looked brighter and more vibrant.

The grayness of it had washed away with his sorrow and he was now again in the world of a colorful Opus. The flower beds surrounding the palace, the birds chirping in the trees nearby, everything was beautiful again.

Servants had filed outside upon hearing that the prince was arriving. Patroclus’ face lit up at familiar faces albeit ones that didn’t entirely treat him as much of a prince as Phthia’s servants treated Achilles but it was alright, everything would be alright. He was home and change was coming.

“Prince Patroclus, welcome home” one servant greeted Patroclus with a bow as Patroclus got down from his horse.

Patroclus had smiled and nodded before turning back around to the servant to recognize that this was his father’s servant. _Shouldn’t he be with father?_

It was only then when Patroclus’ bags were being carried into the palace that Patroclus turned to ask about his father’s current condition.

“How has father been, has he been any better?”

The servant who was trying to outpace the prince into the palace stopped abruptly in his tracks. Patroclus stopped with him and looked quizzically at him, the servants face had fallen from somewhat concentrated to a look of what seemed to be apologetic. Patroclus was puzzled, “Is he alright” and there was still no answer.

Patroclus began to slowly look around at the servants and house maids, no one was smiling and everyone had a look on their face as if they pitied Patroclus. A silence had taken the palace and it was only now that Patroclus had noticed.

Patroclus grabbed the servant’s arm and looked him straight into the eyes until the servant looked down, training his eyes on the ground.

With his hand still latched onto the servants arm Patroclus begins to look around again at the faces of many, his mind beginning to reluctantly piece together what Patroclus was sure not at all true. It was then Patroclus let go and began to make a break for the palace before members of the court began to appear and among them being Amphidamas.

Patroclus stopped in his tracks, seeing the same expression on some of their faces as well.

“Amphidamas I need to-“

“Patroclus” Amphidamas had brought a hand to Patroclus’ shoulder, staring into wondering and anxious big brown eyes.

“I’m sorry”

Patroclus froze, confused still but knowing very well what was happening.

“Sorry for what, Amphidamas, where is my father? I’d like to see him” Patroclus says, a faint smile and chuckle. Amphidamas had intention to break the news but found it harder than he thought it would be.

“Patroclus…” The servant behind him, his father’s servant steps forward.

Patroclus turns to meet his gaze, “The king… your father… has passed”.

At that moment all of the color and vibrancy that had triumphed its way into Patroclus’ world had begun to wash away. Sound, taste, sight, touch all disappeared, his senses suspending themselves one after the other. Patroclus had begun to resemble one of the statues that stood at opposite corners of the palace main room. _Passed?_

He snaps out of at the word repeating within his head. _There’s no way._

“No…no”

Patroclus begins to move again, his head snapping forward toward where the stairs leading to his father’s room is.

“He said he’d be here to greet me when I returned home, he is not dead” He says as if trying to convince the room and himself.

“Patroclus-” Amphidamas

“I need to check on him, those herbs Phoenix gave to him must be working” Patroclus made a way to go to his father’s room.

“Patroclus, please-“

“I just want to see my father, Amphidamas” Patroclus said with a sad smile painting his face. Amphidamas hesitates for a moment and eventually summons guards to keep Patroclus from going on to the king’s chambers.

“What are you-“Patroclus begins panicking. _This isn’t supposed to be happening._

Servants and court members alike begin to start looking more worried by the second.

“I want to see my father” Patroclus voice growing hoarse.

“Patroclus he is-“

“I want to see my father now!” Patroclus pushed passed Amphidamas, the guards and other servants to make his way up the stairs and to his father’s chambers. He was running frantically to get to those familiar chambers. _He said he’d be here so he should be here._

_“Why won’t you sleep?”_

_“You were crying in your sleep again, Patroclus…”_

_“It will be okay, Patroclus”_

His vision becomes blurry as he makes his way frantically to his father’s room as guards and members of the court chase after him.

“Patroclus please!-“Amphidamas calls out as he too is trying to stop the prince.

He sees the door to his father’s room and with a swift hit of his shoulder barges into the room and comes to a full stop. In that moment of what Patroclus was seeing, his blood begins to run cold and he begins a sluggish walk over to the bed. _No._

The guards finally arrive and stop just outside of the room as Amphidamas bustles his way through them to step slightly in the room with some of the kings long time servants.

“Patro-“Amphidamas tries

“No” Patroclus’ voice is hoarse and raspy.

A grave silence falls over the chattering servants and guards, even Amphidamas at this point takes a few steps back from Patroclus and the figure in the bed.

“No… no… no no no no no” Patroclus slowly and gently touches the body on the bed. _You said you’d be here waiting for me._

Shock and fear written on the brunette’s face. _My father is dead._

He drops to his knees, a dark and blank world replacing the gray one that was there as he tracked his way to this room.

“Father” He calls out in a hoarse cry.

In that moment that dream, that canvas he had painted perfectly in his mind of a new Opus with him leading the charge and his father finally being able to be proud of him had broken and shattered in his mind.

_“He has his hands on you”._

_No… he doesn’t._

This was a world he couldn’t ever hope to control or even prosper in.

He brings his hands to his face, covering the tears that began an endless flow.

His scream is silent.

Internal.

 

 


	8. I'm Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you’re alright?”
> 
> "Yes…I’m alright"

  The sun sits high in a crystal clear blue sky as the people of Opus bustle through their day, children running in the market place, some stopped by adults telling them to slow down or some stopped to be given snacks and told to run along. There is a slight breeze blowing as the birds chirp from nearby trees, some landing on the tops of fruit and vegetable carriages. A woman stands in the door way, pregnant, watching her two son’s sword fight with sticks as their father prepares to set off into the town to sell his bread. Spirits are high today after enduring a week of rain and storms that often beat on the kingdom during this season but be it as it may, the sun has come and it shines on all of Opus today, on its people, on its crops and on its palace.

Behind the royal wall, through the small garden and inside of the palace is the people’s prince, on his knees only inches from the bed of their king with his face in his hands, silently sobbing, moments upon moments had passed while many servants and court members poured from the doorway out into the hall of the deceased king’s chambers. An elderly maid, a maid who’d been there for quite a long time and had served since the crowning of Menoetius. Though she wasn’t particularly close with the king or his son, she’d been there and served them diligently, they were not ill behaved as royalty and they treated the servants of the palace with kindness. Maybe it was that very reason and how she’d remembered the prince as one of quietness and humbleness that moved her feet forward toward the boy. She came to his side and slightly bent a knee while gently bringing both hands to Patroclus’ arms-attempting to help the prince up from the floor and it proved successful for but a moment.

Patroclus stood with the elderly maid’s hands now comfortingly on his shoulders trying his hardest to stand still and not fall over, finally raising his head for the sun beaming through the window to see his face painted with tears.

Amphidamas reluctantly in that moment cautiously tries to comfort the prince, “Patroclus… I am so sorry-“.

His words falling on deaf ears, Patroclus was motionless as he stared at the lifeless body, the shell of the man he used to call father. Reality is setting in as his mind begins to comprehend and understand that there was no waking from this colorless world of a nightmare. It was then that his big brown wet eyes began to widen, his breathing became heavier and his skin seeping into a pale shade that made him look sickly.

“NOOOOOO!!” an unreal sound somewhere between a loud screech and a roar fills the room and echoes throughout the entire palace. As if winter had come right then and there within that room a chill arises and there are goosebumps on every servant and court member alike, shock and a feeling of fear gripping them as the Prince screams. The elderly maid now steps away from Patroclus, frightened to close the distance as she had before. Amphidamas could have sworn that just for a brief moment that the day had disappeared and been replaced by night, the prince’s grief so heavy that it feels like it will be everlasting.

The palace stood silent for what seemed an eternity, sounds of sniffles and weeping the only thing to be heard if you listened closely enough. At a certain point Amphidamas decided to motion for everyone, royal court and servants alike to leave the room and give Patroclus space and time to grieve. Walking pass one of the court members he whispers, “Let us begin making burial preparations”, and with that they take their leave.  The sunny day had turned into a starry night, a moon shining down on Opus, servants bustling about after serving the court a dinner that was absent their prince. In the chambers of the king Patroclus sits back pressed against his fathers bed, gaze on his fidgeting hands. His voice had grown weak and hoarse hours ago so he’d changed tactics and decided to sit silently though the tears kept coming periodically and within the hours he’d been sitting here he’d developed a pattern in which he would wipe them when they reached his lips. At some points he would lean forward and turn his head to view the hand of his father hanging lifelessly hanging from the bed to make sure that this was still real and that he wasn’t dreaming.

A few moments of silence passed before he turned around again to see his father’s hand, he paused this time, face red and tears still running down his face before he wiped them away by instinct again. He lifted his chin as if trying to see over the bed, he turned slightly away for a moment and paused. Abruptly, he rises to see all of his father laying there, lifeless, tears instantly falling at the sight. As if he could hear his father speaking to him he nodded his head, “I just want to say-“, stopping as if he’d been interrupted before continuing, “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry”.

“I just wanted to say that… about what happened at Peleus’ palace that night, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for mother, for me, for everything” He began to ramble as silence quickly followed his voice.

“No please! Please… just let me, please…just… you’re about to leave my life forever so surely I have a right to say a few words!” he doesn’t bother wiping away the tears that fall now as his voice rings throughout the king’s chamber.

“I loved you so much, father, I did! I know that now and it… it was all my fault, everything was all my fault and I just want to say that I’m sorry for everything… NO I have to say it! Cause I was, I am in the wrong” his eyes looking over his father’s now pale face as if there’s a response that’s going to come.

“You just don’t understand what’s been going on in my head”, his voice gets a bit quieter, “You don’t understand, you don’t understand what it’s like to be me, nobody does but you… you more than anyone because you understand me better than anyone, don’t you, father?!” he continues.

“…you always have haven’t you, father? Haven’t you?”

Silence stalking his voice after he speaks, he sits on the side of the bed and grabs his father’s flailing hand, a slight smile arrives on his lips, “see you care…see I knew-I knew you cared-I knew it”. He gets up quickly and starts pacing the room while still briefly looking at his father as he spoke, “Cause I’ve been seeing things, father and I know-I know this sounds crazy but I have…mother, I’ve been seeing her, my mother, your wife, I’ve been seeing her!”

“What she’d be like now, what she was wearing and father, she was so beautiful, she’s sweet and she kept following me around and she called me Pat, I swear!” His voice still hoarse and sometimes slipping into a whisper.

He stopped pacing, eyes now steadily on his father, “See…that’s what I thought but she’s been talking to me, father-you have to understand, I need you to understand” standing there, his voice now trembling.

“You can’t go now...no…father you can’t, I’ve got things to say to you that I can’t say to anyone else”, tears begin falling again before he turns from his father to wipe them away and quickly turns back around.

“…why do you hate me so much? Whatever have I done to you? YOU AND MOTHER! Whatever have I done?!” No reply came as none came the whole time Patroclus has been speaking.

“No I’ve got every right, you’re my FATHER…yes you are, you still are…” He stands still, covering and then uncovering his mouth trying to hold in sobs as he gets closer to once again sit at his father’s side.

“Father…” a hoarse whispering cry came out as he grabbed his father’s hand and pulled it toward his cheek, he sat that way, never moving, for the rest of the night.

As the night ends the sky is painted a blue gradient color with hints of pink as the sun arrives in the sky, signaling for another beautiful day. Birds begin chirping and flowers bloom, butterflies breaking from cocoons. However, inside the palace still sings a gloomy place, a silent place but servants are still on schedule, shuffling around with sheets, freshly cleaned tunics and plates to set up for the palace breakfast. In the kings chambers, the light of dawn breaks through the window, showering the room in a light blue hue. Patroclus still in the same position, with his father’s hand at his cheek, bags under his bloodshot watery eyes. Nothing is alright but its feels as if it is being close to his father, he doesn’t smell the decaying of the body, he doesn’t see the rot, he only sees the man he bid farewell to when he decided to stay a few more months in Phthia.

Whispers began to leak from the other side of the door but Patroclus does not bother to decipher what’s going on, it’s not important, the hand that touched his cheek was, however. The silence that once felt like a ton of stones on his shoulder now seemed serene before the whispering began and eventually the door to the King’s chamber opened and in walked eight palace guards followed by Amphidamas and a handful of servants, one being the elderly woman from the previous day. Patroclus now having given the attention to the ones who came into the room had a confused expression on his face.

He slowly and gently lifted his father’s hand from his cheek but still held it in his hands and lowered them onto his lap. Amphidamas and the servants were looking at Patroclus with concern and worry written on their faces, Amphidamas looking toward the elderly maid and the guards as if ensuring everyone was on board with whatever was going to happen.

“Amphidamas” Patroclus whispered, voice broken.

“Good morning, Patroclus”, the man replied, a soft smile on his face.

“We’re here to help”, the elderly maid chimes in with a smile on her face as well, albeit a broken one but a smile nevertheless.

“No no no… help, I don’t need any help…I just need time with my father” Patroclus said, trying to crack a reassuring smile while looking back and forth from his father to the room full of people.

“Patroclus, we all just want what’s best for your father, his body is rotting and we need to have him moved” Amphidamas said softly and calmly.

As if Patroclus did not even hear what he’d said, his eyes shot over to the guards, the eight guards that had accompanied him into the room.

“Who…who are they?” Patroclus asked, voice still hoarse.

“These are the palace guards, Patroclus…they are going to help us move the body carefully and prepare it for burial”, Amphidamas treading lightly as to not trigger a manic reaction from Patroclus.

“Prepare? Prepare for what? Nothing needs to be prepared, a burial isn’t necessary” Patroclus says, his volume rising as he looks around the room at worried faces.

“…Tell them!” he looks at the elderly maid whom he remembers comforted him yesterday.

“I’m sorry, Patroclus” she lowers her head as if trying to hide tears of her own.

Amphidamas trying to keep the situation as calm as possible chimes in, “we all have agreed that burial as quickly as possible would be the best thing possible, the rot and the smell will fill the entire palace if we do not, Patroclus”.

Patroclus looks around the room, seeing the guards spread themselves out as if preparing for something, “No…we’re fine” he gives off another broken smile.

“we’re okay”

“Patroclus, please”

“No really, we’re fine, thank you for worrying about us but we’re fine” his gaze on his father, squeezing the dead kings hand as tightly as he can.

“Patroclus we really need to take the body today” Amphidamas steps forward a bit causing Patroclus to look at him.

“No I don’t want to, I want him to stay, I want-“, and He looks again to the elderly maid for support,  
“Tell them”.

“I’m sorry, Patroclus”, she begins crying, “It for the best”.

“I don’t want him to go, you can’t make him go! I don’t want him to go!”

A deep sigh comes from Amphidamas as he looks around the room and then to the guards, “I’m afraid then, Patroclus that we are going to have to insist”.

“Insist?” Patroclus’ grip on his father’s hand tightens more at the word.

“Patroclus, we all agreed it’s for the best, for your best as well…” the room is still for a moment before Amphidamas continues, “Now under the burial laws of Opus we are going to take you father’s body for a cleaning as per the right of the king and move to the burial area-“

A horrified look plasters itself on Patroclus’ face, “no no...”

 The maid begins to sob and she covers her mouth to avoid anyone hearing her cries, guards get into position to move Patroclus and take the king while Patroclus begins to cry as well, one hand curled over his face and the other holding onto his father’s hand.

“No…No” he shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry, Prince Patroclus” The elderly maid coughs out as she cries with him, her frail little body shaking.

“No wait! Please! Please!-I promise, I’ll take him later, I’ll take him later by myself, I promise!” Patroclus now holding his hands out trying to stop the guards from moving any closer.

Amphidamas tries to calm the situation once more, “Patroclus, there’s breakfast in the main room for you and when you are done you will be able to see him again-“

“No!-no…no… “He shakes his head and begins looking for something.

He quickly grabs the cup his father had drank out of, “no…get away from us”, he stands and raises his arm with the cup in it as if it’s a large sharp sword. The guards look at each other, confused.

“Patroclus, please” Amphidamas beginning to worry tries to calm him.

“Patroclus, don’t!” The maid pleads.

“Get away from us, you’re not taking him, you’re not taking him!”

“We’re going to have to take the body, Patroclus-“Amphidamas raises his hand to protect himself from the cup that flies across the room.

Guards and servants move out of the way and cover themselves as the cup flies across the room and into the hall, Patroclus quickly turns to his father and tries to lift him as if he’s going to take him where no one knows where they are. He grunts and huffs as he tries to lift the dead king but guards run to him and grab him.

“AHH!” one of the guards scream and let go as Patroclus bites him.

“Patroclus! Please!”

“Prince Patroclus!”

The guards eventually tear Patroclus from his father and he falls onto the floor as they try to get a good and secure hold on him, “Don’t hurt him!” the elderly maid yells as she’s now standing in the doorway.

“NOO!! Get off of me please!!” his screams and cries are harrowing.

“Please!! Help me!!”

He turns to see the other four guards lifting his father, “FATHER! FATHER PLEASE!-PLEASE HELP ME FATHER!!”

Sounds of shuffling, Patroclus screaming and servants crying is all that could be heard in the palace.

“FATHER PLEASE THEY’RE TRYING TO TAKE YOU!”

Amphidamas now panicking, looks at the servants crying and piling up in the hall, “Everything is going to be okay, just-“, he motions for them all to stand back.

“Father I love you...please don’t leave me…please father!”

“Patroclus, calm down” Amphidamas kneels down to try and comfort the prince.

“FATHER! FATHER!”

The elderly maid steps forward to kneel down as well, “Patroclus, please, everything is going to be fine, they’re just taking him to-“

“Please don’t let them, don’t let them take him, please!”

The maid is speechless and holds his hand, it’s the only thing she can do at this point.

“Please…I trusted you….”

 

The morning turns into the afternoon and the afternoon turns into the evening, the body is taken to the washing house, separate from the palace as it is a completely separate building of the palace grounds. The body is washed and clothed in a tunic that Menoetius hasn’t worn since his crowning nearly 30 years ago.

About four days later in the meeting room of the palace, Amphidamas and the other royal court members discuss the burial on Menoetius, “It should be at least two days from now” one suggests.

“Two days? I was under the impression that we would do it tomorrow, the smell of the body is beginning to reach the palace even as it sits in the wash house. There’s only so many scented leaves we can use to keep it preserved”.

“Should Patroclus not be involved in this meeting, he is the prince…err, King now” the court member looks toward Amphidamas who is sitting quietly where Menoetius used to sit.

“And he should be sitting in that spot…”

Amphidamas quickly breaks out of his deep thinking, “Patroclus is not well enough to clean himself, let alone plan his father’s burial”.

They all look awkwardly at each other, “or run this kingdom”. They were all thinking it none would even suggest such a thing…except Amphidamas.

“Oh don’t look that way, we all know this to be true, look at how he takes the death of his father”, he argues with no one as everyone is too afraid to even entertain the thought.

“His father and his mother have died, Amphidamas-“

“Death is something we are all taught about as children, no? At least I that is how I was raised and how I raise my son”, he gets up and begins talking more directly to the members of the royal court.

“We need a KING, not a boy and Patroclus just isn’t-“

He stops short of almost insulting the grieving prince, “I loved the king, I did but…this kingdom needs leadership, strong leadership and Patroclus isn’t fit at this moment to provide that”.

One of the court members, a woman with dark hair spoke up, “well…we were all thinking it, and I mean…he hasn’t exactly been well even though days have passed. I’ve seen servants go to the king’s chamber to offer Patroclus food but he won’t even respond, he’s just…stayed there”.

“Exactly” Amphidamas responds.

“We must do what’s right for the kingdom and Patroclus and right now Patroclus needs time to heal so as the court, it is up to us to take over from here on out until he is fit enough to take his father’s place”.

The meeting went on for about an hour more before it ended, they’d called all in the kingdom to the front of the palace gates to announce the kings death, women and men alike cried and were in shock. They began to leave flowers and gifts in front of the palace gate as the day of the announcement went on. Patroclus did not come to the announcement, he did not leave his fathers bed, he just laid in it trying to make sense of his father really being gone and him being left all alone, all of his hopes and dreams crushed. He eyes were red but now they were dry, he was all cried out and exhausted if he was going to be honest with himself. _So this is it? This is my life now? This is it._

He set up in the bed, the first movement in days, looking down at his hands and then to the window in the room. The sun was setting on the day and so the sky was a deep orange, randomly thoughts of the beach sunsets in Phthia came to him. He tilted his head looking at what of the sky he could see from the bed. He remembers the two boys he befriended in Phthia, he remembers Balius and Xanthus, the beautiful divine horses he had ridden twice. The first genuine smile in days cracks on his lips and then the dreams he remembered he’d had in Phthia came rushing back as well and the smile disappeared. He sat there for a few moments more thinking deeply, trying to feel anything, trying to escape from the numb sorrow that still consumed him.

He looked again at the sky out of the window and finally got up from the bed and walked over to the window. He put his elbows on the window sill as he leaned out of the window, taking in the breeze and the sunset. The sound of the birds that seemed to not have been there the past few days was music to him in this moment, the breeze were strong arms wrapping around him, comforting him, protecting him. This is the first time he’s felt at ease and safe since he walked into this room days ago to discover his world had fallen apart. He’d stay there in that spot throughout the evening and through the entire night.

The next day the palace had seemed busier than it’s ever been, servants and guards bustling around as noble families from around Opus had arrived to the palace for the burial of the late king Menoetius. Today was a bit cloudy but the sun still shined and let its rays of light hit the kingdom through slits in the clouds. A knock had come at the door for the kings chambers where Patroclus resided, still leaning out of the window, eyes heavy indicating that sleep had been a stranger to him once again.

“Prince Patroclus?” A servant knocks, her voice is lite and sweet but she gets no answer as two other servant girls approach her and encourage her to knock again and wait for an answer. A few moments pass and all three are about to turn away before the door creaks open.

Out of the slit they can see Patroclus’ face and they quickly bow and ask for entry, “Prince Patroclus, we were sent to prepare you for your father’s burial today….” She says nervously.

He looks at her and then down toward the floor as if getting news he didn’t want to hear but he opens the door wider and leaves it open as he walks toward the bed to sit. The servant girls look at one another and cautiously step into the room. One of the girls reaches to cover her nose before remembering she was in front of the prince or as his new title would be, the king. He smelled similar to the body that had lain in the bed, his hair was messy and he looked like he hadn’t slept in months.

One of the girls walks back out of the room to bring in a large basin with hot water in it, the other two girls get unfold the towels they carried with them into the room and approached the prince on the bed.

“Umm…Prince-” One of the girls hesitating to ask him to undress so they can wash him until she is interrupted by Patroclus himself undressing on his own and throwing his tunic to the floor, all three of the girls blushed. Despite his current smell, bloodshot eyes and messy hair he was still quite handsome and his body was of form. The three girls hesitated for a moment while Patroclus stood there, messy hair practically covering his eyes and half of his face. They looked at one another and began to clean him, from his face to his toes, he made not one move as they did this. When they were finished washing his hair, one of the girls pulled out a tunic for him to wear, it wasn’t like the tunic his mother had made for him, and this was one of the formal tunics he’d only wear to palace feasts when his father would have the noble families over.

When they were finished, the girls bowed and told Patroclus that the burial ceremony would begin at high noon. When the three servants had taken their leave Patroclus stood there a minute feeling on the tunic he had on before going back over to the window to lean out again and feel the breeze. The day was relatively nice despite it being sort of cloudy but even then it felt like he was numb to the beauty of the palace garden he could see from where he was or the sounds of birds chirping and dogs barking. He’d stare for long periods of time at certain spots on the ground, not thinking, just staring, and just standing still.

It was when he heard a few of the royal court members welcoming their families to the palace to prepare for the burial ceremony that Patroclus snapped out of his trance and began to pay attention to the people pouring into the gates and the sun being so high behind the clouds in the sky. _It’s time._

He stepped back from the window and began smoothing out his tunic that had ruffled a bit during his time leaning against the sill. When he was done he looked once more up at the sky and the birds he saw gliding across it. _They seem so free and unchained, I wish I were there._

A knock came at the door but this time there was no pause, it was a constant knock that Patroclus had to answer before they had broken the door down. Patroclus walked over to open the door and to his surprise it was someone he did not quite expect at this moment, his eyes widened a bit.

“Patroclus, I have come to offer my condolences to you”, a husky boy who was an inch or two taller than Patroclus said.

“Thank you, Clitonymus” Patroclus said, voice barely audible.

Clitonymus seemed a bit nervous as the sight of Patroclus was quite different from what he remembers, he hadn’t seen the prince in about a year but seeing him now, visibly torn apart and struggling…if he was honest with himself he’d have enjoyed the sight a year ago when he was around the palace often and he butted heads with Patroclus quite often. The lack of sleep and tear stained eyes showing in Patroclus’ face, Clitonymus had never exactly got on with Patroclus but he was no evil boy, he could see when someone was clearly hurting and felt for the prince in this moment.

“I truly am sorry for your lost, Patroclus, King Menoetius was a good man” he said lowering his head and partially bowing before exiting the room. Patroclus even in his state of numbness felt a bit warm that someone who never quite liked him was being genuinely kind to him and speaking well of his father.

 _He’d have wanted me to be strong…wouldn’t he?_ Patroclus looked back taking one more look at the sky before turning and walking out of the king’s chamber and closing the door behind him. Patroclus had walked into the main room where a servant had met and guided him outside to the burial place on the palace grounds. He’d seen quite a few people standing around but they parted for him to take his place beside Amphidamas and the rest of the royal court, Amphidamas smiled at Patroclus and motioned for him to say a few words before beginning the ceremony. Patroclus looked at him and shook his head before turning his gaze to the ground.

“We gather here at high noon today to put to rest King Menoetius!” Amphidamas starts, as he finishes people began placing gifts beneath the pyre where the body is placed and when the gifts are done being placed, an ox is brought before the pyre. Patroclus looks up upon hearing the cries of the animal and he sees one of the guards pull out his sword.

“This is usually done by a family member but-“Amphidamas turns to look at Patroclus, “we’ll allow for the guards to perform this duty today” he gives Patroclus a reassuring smile.

“No…no” Patroclus whispers to himself, his expression becoming panicked as he looks from his father’s body to the Ox whose about to die. _Death._

“YAH!” The guard grunts as he slits the animal’s neck and blood spills out. Without hesitation Patroclus pushes through the noble families present and the guards and walks off by himself. Amphidamas attempts to call him but it was useless as the prince was walking quite fast.  Amphidamas then motions for the other guards to light the pyre and begin the burning of the body.

After the burning of the body, Amphidamas said last words before ushering everyone into the palace feast room. There was quite a lot of chattering about the prince who had walked off and wasn’t to be seen again during the evening.

One of the court members went over to Amphidamas, “The nobles are speaking and they are quite concerned for the Prince and his health…they worry about him, how can one lead when they cannot even sit through the burial ceremony?”

“Ah, all will be well, we will speak of this when the evening comes to an end”. Amphidamas says with wine and bread in hand, smiling and about to make his rounds during the night. As the night comes to an end and nobles are leaving Amphidamas is the one to bid them farewell, “thank you for coming, Eusophus, you and your beautiful wife make it home safety”.

“Thank you so much for guiding us all through today, the death of a king is always a sad thing but in this case it seems even sadder as the next king in line was nowhere to be found today” The old man said.

“Not to worry, everything will be alright” that same smile still on Amphidamas’ face.

As the palace is now filled with servants cleaning from the burial ceremony it is then that Patroclus returns, the back of his tunic has a green stain on it indicating that he’d been sitting in the grass somewhere on palace grounds. Servants turn and look briefly at him, making sure not to stare too long. He stops and begins to walk once again, heading for the kings chambers until he is stopped.

“Patroclus.” He turns his head to be met with Amphidamas and a host of other royal court members.

“Will you come with us to the meeting room? There is much to discuss and you are the king now that your father has-“He stops and waits a moment before Patroclus nods and they all head toward the meeting chamber. _Will I even make much of a king now?_

As they entered the room Patroclus stood awkwardly aside as the rest of them took their seats.  
“Patroclus”, Amphidamas called for him to come sit at the head of the room where Menoetius would usually sit. Patroclus stood still for a moment before he eventually made his way to the chair and slowly took his seat.

The room was silent for a few minutes, an awkward air filled the atmosphere as if everyone was waiting for something, anything to happen. Patroclus had not even questioned the silence, his eyes lowered toward his fingers that were still and placed on his lap.

“Well…we should get started then, shall we?” Amphidamas says. The meeting begins and there’s talks of the Opus army, trade with other kingdoms, plans for new homes to be built in certain areas of the kingdom and etc. Two hours pass and Patroclus has still said nothing nor even bothered to look up from his lap, everyone in the room notices this but continue to go on with the meeting. It isn’t until Amphidamas calls on Patroclus that silence once again falls on the room, “Patroclus?”

Patroclus lifts his head with wide eyes confused and not sure what the topic at hand is, “Do you have anything to say on…well anything we’ve discussed?”

Patroclus is silent, his eyes grow heavy as if sleep will come but he knows it will not, he shakes his head and lowers his eyes once again. The court members all look at him and then to Amphidamas and one woman nods to him as if signaling him to do something.

“Patroclus, me and the court have been speaking and we know you are going through a rough time but…You are to be king…there is a kingdom to run”.

“Yes, there is” a dark haired woman co-signs him.

“Some of us feel that you…are not quite well at this moment to rule and lead this kingdom…” Amphidamas says slowly and carefully as the court looks to him and back to Patroclus with caution, seeing what the Prince’s reaction will be to this conversation but his eyes are still on his lap, his body still.

“…Patroclus, I know this may sound harsh but…nobles and the court do not feel you are fit at all to be the next king”, at this Patroclus clenches his tunic.

“And as it is, now that we are without Menoetius as king and much of the court is worried for you…we will have to make a very tough decision” Amphidamas says softly.

One of the members, a bald man with a grey beard chimes in, “To put it simply Patroclus, you left your own father’s burial, the kings burial, no matter how sad one is that is not the way a king or anyone of a royal or noble family should behave”.

The room falls quiet after that, all eyes are on Patroclus but again, there is no physical or audible response from him. He hears everything that’s being said now, he knows of their concerns and even he knows that in this state, he’s not fit to lead anyone, this causes a pit to form in his belly.

“We will be holding a vote, Patroclus, a very important vote”, Amphidamas says looking directly at Patroclus trying to make eye contact while he’s still gazing at his lap, “we’re going to vote on whether or not you will be the successor of King Menoetius”.

Patroclus’ heart sank, he’d been numb for days so it was surprising to him that he could hurt anymore but it turned out he could, however, he still didn’t look up.

Amphidamas stood and rose his hand, we will begin the vote between all eight members.

Patroclus began to fiddle with his tunic, head still down as the voting began. Amphidamas had begun counting votes of the court members, “Daemus” Amphidamas called.

“Unfit” the man said.

“One vote down” Amphidamas proclaims.

“Unfit”

“Two votes down”

“Unfit”

“Three votes down”

Patroclus still looking down continues to fiddle with his tunic as the voting is in progression.

_“What do you plan to do when you get back to Opus?”_

“Unfit”

“Four votes down”

“Fit”

“Five votes down”

“Unfit”

“Six votes down”

_“Take care of my father…make Opus a better place, a place people from all over talk about”_

Patroclus’ lip began to quiver as his memories appeared before him.

“Unfit”

“Seven votes down”

_Father is dead, I guess it’s only fitting that my dreams die with him. I have nothing._

“I guess…I will close the voting” Amphidamas said as he looked awkwardly around the room and to Patroclus as he had an apologetic look on his face, “Fit”, he said as he then took his seat.

The room fell quiet once more as members of the court looked around at one another and occasionally sometimes toward Patroclus who had not looked up even during voting.

“We will close this meeting and discuss this more on tomorrow, it has been a long tiresome day, has it not been? Let us go home to our families” Amphidamas says as he picks up his scroll and waves to the members leaving. Once gone he sees Patroclus still sitting and he approaches the boy, “Patroclus I-“

“It’s okay” Patroclus says abruptly, Amphidamas taken back by the sudden sound of his voice, he hadn’t heard him speak at all today.

“You know you do not have to leave the palace, you are still royal blood…you have just been voted unfit which means you cannot rule is all” Amphidamas takes a seat next to Patroclus’ chair.

Patroclus looks up for the first time, his eyes watery as he nods in understanding of the situation.

The next day the palace was busy as usual, with the burial finally done, servants back to their normal schedules and routines. It was early morning when Patroclus had went another sleepless night in the kings chambers, with the tunic he’d worn yesterday still on. As he got up from lying down he could spot other stains on it from when he sat in the grass yesterday. He looked around the room and freshly washed tunics caught his eye, he made his way over to them and began to shuffle through them looking for one in particular. _Here it is._

That familiar purple flower at the lower end of it, the tunic his mother had made for him, his favorite one. He took of the grass stained tunic and put on the one he cherished most, he began to feel on it. _This feels better, I hated the_ feel _of the other one._ His mind flashing back to the meeting last night where he was feeling the tunic and hating how it felt, he couldn’t explain it but it fascinated him at the time as much as it distracted him from the voting concerning the stripping away of his title as king. He looked again at the flower on his tunic and gazed at it for a moment. _Mother._

_“You don’t have to hold me, mother!”_

_“Yes I do, Patroclus and if you keep moving you will fall”_

A slight smirk reaches his lips as sweet memories grace his mind this morning, he looks up out of the window at the sky and he sees birds flying. He remembers where he first felt free like that, where he’d first felt unchained to the problems that held him down and it was his mother who had taken him to that place.

As Patroclus made his way out of the palace he was stopped by a trembling voice, “Prince Patroclus”, he turned to find that it was the elderly woman from before. Show tried to bow but he saw clearly that her knee wouldn’t allow her to so he spoke up to her with a smile it took all of his strength to maintain, “That is alright, have a good morning”. She smiled at him and he smiled back upon turning to continue his journey away from palace grounds. He stopped just outside of the gates after declining a horse or a retinue to accompany him. _If I’m not mistaking it should be…that way._

After two hours of wandering and eventually finding his way, Patroclus had arrived at an old horse stable, the one his mother took him to when he was just a child. He stood there for a moment before approaching the back where the riding ring was, the same wooden fences still up and don’t seem to have been changed. In the ring riding was a young girl and what seemed to be her father with her, there was also another man in the ring who was riding, and he looked to be in his 30’s. Patroclus went over to the one of the giant rocks that people sat on and made himself comfortable by sitting himself there.

He watched the people in the ring for hours, remembering the times his mother would bring him here when his father was in meetings or too busy to come. He didn’t know why his mother brought him to this one instead of building one at the palace but he didn’t mind it, grand memories were made here.

A genuine smile swept over his lips as he watched the girl and her father in the ring, the image was familiar to him. The horses were beautiful to him, everything about horse riding was beautiful to him, he then randomly wondered about how Xanthus and Balius were doing and his thoughts just ran and ran and ran until evening had come. He hadn’t noticed the time going by so quickly until the man who was the last one in the ring had gotten from his horse to take it back into one of the stalls. As the sun set and stars began to reveal themselves in the sky Patroclus felt a pair of eyes on him, he turned his head to see a woman with long wavy brown hair and a scarf around her head looking at him, she smiled.

He was confused because he could swear that he knows her or that he’s seen her before, she begins to make her way toward him and he scoots over a little as to keep a little space between them. “You’ve been here all day”, she says with a smile still there.

Patroclus just nods at her as she speaks, she squints her eyes for a moment as she looks at him closer and then steps back a bit, eyes widened.

“Well…well” she says as she’s gasping, “Patroclus?”

He slowly shakes his head as if trying to figure who she is and how she knows him, “How do you-“

“I knew your mother very well” she says

“My, how long has it been…well really it’s just been years, years and years” She looks at him as if she’s a proud mother.

“Say have you stopped falling off of horses yet?” She said as she let out a soft laugh.

His eyes widened as his memory sent a shock through him as if waking him up, “Acrisias?” His mouth moves suddenly without him know. _I remember._

_“Is that-my gods is that Pat?!” The woman who runs the stables comes out and asks._

_“Yeah, that’s Pat-“She continues laughing, not able to stop herself at this point_

_“Mother, are you laughing?!” his face still in horror and near tears_

_He falls off of the horse and both Sthenele and the stable owner rush out to him._

“Yes, Patroclus, the same woman who was here helping your mother get you up off of the ground every time you ignored her warnings” She said still laughing as she set on the edge of the stone next to him.

“Oh how it has been so long since I’ve seen you, I know you are the prince but by Selene’s bright moon…how it has been such a long, long time” She looks at him as if she’s looking directly into the past, at memories she wants to see over and over again. Patroclus smiles as well, the first genuine smile in a while, he remembers this woman and his mother being very close when he’d visit the stables.

“I remember you and my mother were friends” His voice low and still hoarse. Acrisias turns to him, “Yes, Sthenele was a very dear friend to me…” she trails off, gaze at the night sky.

“She was a true friend, despite becoming a Queen she never had forgotten about me, she never forgot about this stable that she also used to work at when we were both children”, a chuckle followed that memory.

Patroclus’ eyes widened, “She worked here?”

“Why yes, she and I worked here with my father, when he went off on trips to Delphi, the things we’d get up to while he was gone” She let out another laugh, this time it seemed hardier than the last one she let out.

The smile then disappeared and she turned to Patroclus who was staring at her, “I miss her”, Acrisias says. Patroclus lowers his head as a silence falls on the two, “I’m sorry about your father as well, Patroclus, it can’t be easy you”, She says still looking at the sky. Patroclus is silent, he closes his eyes trying to cage in any tears he feels will fall if he continues to think about either of his parents.

When he opened his eyes and looked up he found her looking at him, “What is it?” he asks.

“You look like your mother”

He nods and turns his gaze toward the night sky, the stars shining brighter than usual tonight, his eyes still red and watery with bags accompanying them.

“Are you alright, Patroclus?” Acrisias asks.

“Huh?” He looks at her, a confused expression painted on his face.

“Are you alright?” She asks again, her voice much softer this time but Patroclus did not respond, his gaze just fell to the ground.

“Is it fair to say you’ve been having a difficult time?” She noticed him, his posture, his wild hair, his red eyes, and his hoarse voice. _He’s not okay._

To her surprise he begins to speak, “Well yeah…I mean I’ve been up…and I’ve been down, you know…”

She nods, relieved that he’s answered her this time, he hasn’t completely shut down.

“Sleeping well?”

“Well I don’t really need much sleep, there’s a lot … there’s a lot to do in the palace, as prince and all” he says quickly, as if trying to convince himself more than her.

“Okay, well what do you do when you’re not sleeping?”

“Well I don’t know, go out to the palace garden, walk around…” He touches his hair, trying to calm it down, trying to look like he has not completely broken down. _You don’t have to hide anything from me, Patroclus._

“How about relationships?” She smiled, trying to break the now tense atmosphere of the conversation, He shifted and didn’t respond.

“Do you have a mate? A potential wife perhaps?” She lets out a small giggle.

“No one special”, he says.

Her smile disappears and she nods her head, “Ah, I see”. She looks away at the sky and then back to Patroclus, “So you’re alright?”

He jerks his head toward her, as if tired of the questions, “Yeah! Yes…I’m alright…some bad things have happened to me but…like I said it’s been up and down”.

“What kind of bad things?” she asks, seeing his increasing frustration at the questions.

He begins fidgeting with his fingers and takes a while to answer, “We-well my mother is dead…my father died” his voice turns into a whisper, “I’ve been stripped of my title as king…”

At that Acrisias’ eyes widened, “I…I don’t know, I just…I’ve had a hard time” his tears begin to fall.

Acrisias is silent for a moment before speaking but there is a sadness written on her face, “And you’re…alright?”

“Well I …may not be completely alright but...” He continues fidgeting with his fingers as he turns to face her, “well yeah…I do-I do feel ill sometimes, I don’t feel very well most of the time…I don’t feel like myself”.

Acrisias is silent as if signaling Patroclus to keep talking, “I don’t understand, I don’t know what’s happening to me, why it’s happening to me…could be the middle of the day standing in the sun and I feel like I’m freezing, like I’m numb, I just feel like…like I’m just going to break, I don’t want to feel like that…” his hoarse voice going in and out as he speaks the most he has spoken in days since he’s arrived back in Opus.

Acrisias turns and begins walking away from Patroclus, he begins wiping his tears and notices her leaving, he opens his mouth to call her but being that his voice is hoarse and going in and out, no sound arrives. He sits there, head in his hands between his knees until he is then tapped on his shoulder. He jerks his head up to see who it is and its Acrisias once again.

He looks confused for a moment before she pulls out something from behind her back, “Here, this belonged to your mother”. She held out in her hand a purple stone with a crescent moon carved into it. Patroclus looked at it with confusion, not knowing what it is and why she’s giving it to him.

“It’s the stone of prayer to the goddess Nyx, your mother coveted this stone and gave it to me to hold onto years ago”, she began to then look at the stone, it was quite beautiful, “It’s made from the Amethyst crystals your mother would bring down from the mountain years ago when she went up to the caves behind the palace, she’d always wanted me to see the caves, she said they were beautiful”. She grabbed Patroclus’ hand with her other hand and placed the stone in his care.

“It belongs to you, Patroclus, you are her child”, Patroclus still confused and with many questions, he’d never owned something so beautiful and symbolic before, the only thing that he’d had of his mother’s was his tunic but now…

“Why…why would my mother have a prayer stone for the…Nyx?”

Acrisias looked puzzlingly at Patroclus before realizing that he did not know, “Ah…well, Patroclus your mother was sort of a…priest for the goddess”. Patroclus eyes widened. _Priest? My mother? My mother had no affiliations nor divine connections._

Still looking confused, Acrisias decided to try and explain more, “Sthenele and her mother had come to Opus about…I’d say the year after my mother passed, leaving me and my father, I remember one night as I stayed over with Sthenele that her mother, your grandmother, did a prayer to Nyx. It was a short prayer and I also noticed that she sat amethyst crystals outside of her door each night and said a prayer to the night”.

Patroclus held the stone, it was smooth and he could not believe his mother had made something like this or that she and his grandmother were …priests of some kinds for this goddess.

“I thought I’d give it to you, Patroclus, when she worked here and she was having a bad day I noticed she’d stop and hold the stone for some time to calm herself down, I figured you being her child and all, you may be able to find some peace with it since it was your mothers”, Acrisias gave a kind smile to him and he managed to crack a smile for her as well. Then he began to think, this was the most he’d heard about his mother since she’d passed, aside from his father’s brief stories and his memories of going to the palace garden with her or her bring him to these stables, he’d not known much of his mother’s life.

They sat awhile before Acrisias got up and turned to him, “Patroclus”, he turned his head toward her, “Be well” she smiled, her smile becoming a sense of comfort to him. Before she turns to walk back to the stalls of the stable he speaks again to her, the best he can with the voice he has at the moment, “Thank you, Acrisias”. She turns again to smile at him before walking back into the stalls. He turns toward the sky looking at the stars as they shine down upon him before turning his gaze toward the stone in his hand, he rubs his thumb over the crescent moon carving within it. _The caves. I need to go and see the caves._

As Patroclus walked away from the stables, Acrisias saw him through one of the cracks in the wooden stall as she was caring for one of the horses, “It really has been a long time…” she smiled before going back to what she was doing.

As Patroclus arrived at the palace and the gates opened for him, he mentally debated going inside of the palace to change tunics from being outside or going straight to the caves, the later choice won. He was anxious to see his mother’s secret place, the place where’d she had made the beautiful stone he’d held in his hands. A smirk had reached his lips, for the first time in days he had felt some sense of something, he had felt. He was excited about something and he wanted to know his mother’s caves, they were hers and he did distinctly remember there being caves behind the palace but now was the question of does he even remember where they are.

As he escaped the palace garden and entered the wooded area behind the palace, the night had grown deep and the stars could be his guild if he knew how to read them and where the caves were, he had to rely on strained memories instead. _I remember father telling me not to venture too far from the garden or the Minotaur would get me from the cave up here, he was trying to scare but it didn’t work, I just never had any interest since everything looked like just…trees back here._

After about two hours of searching and not succeeding in finding the caves, Patroclus who was now exhausted had sat at the stomp of a giant tree to catch his breath and let the night breeze soothe him. As he sat there he stared up at the sky and then back at the stone in his hand. _Nyx, huh?_

Moments after he sat there he began to hear a noise, kind of like a squeaking sound, tiny squeaking sounds, he turn his head to find bats, a group of them flying from one direction. _Ah it’s just-_

He then realized that Bats usually stay in caves and if there’s a group of them then they are either going home or coming from home. He gets up and begins running toward the squeaking sounds, he then sees them and runs toward them like a mad man and as they circle him and some fly away he raises his hands above his face as he tries to see where the caves could be. He looks on the ground for something, anything to help him, he sees and picks up a stick and begins flailing it around as to beat off some of the bats. When he’s in the clear somewhat, there it is, a cave entrance.

He runs for the cave and reaches it stopping only to catch his breath and then move again to get away from the bats, they weren’t too dangerous but they were very loud and he could do without the noise. Upon reaching the cave he shakes his hand to make sure he did not drop the stone, thankfully he did not. It was quite dark deep into the cave so he felt around for anything he could use to create some light but it was a failure of a mission. So he began to feel his way on the cavern walls around, his sandals feeling like they are going to tear any minute. Upon feeling on the walls he realized that there was no wall for one part of the cavern and then discovered that there was another entrance, to where? He did not know.

He stood and then eventually sat down to rest for a bit, then he began to fill around for anything to get an idea of where he was. _If any Minotaur does live here, let him have mercy on me._

As he felt around, to his surprised and shock, he felt on something, a large stone the felt like it had carvings on it but he could not make out anything in the dark. He then stepped back and then made his way around the stone toward the other half of the cave, he came across a rock and another rock and another rock and also what felt like hay. He took his stick, broke it in half and began to rub together, creating a coal and in the dark he carefully moved this into what felt like hay on his hands thus creating a small fire. Once done he set back against the cavern wall exhausted from this journey, had he known this would be required he would have just stayed at the palace to rest until the next day and then come looking for the caves. A few moments after he briefly rested he opened his eyes and rose his head to find what he’d never expected.

The cave’s ceiling was brimming with purple crystals and the stone he felt earlier was just one of many and there scrolls everywhere. _Is this…her cave?_ He jumped up and ran over to the stones and scrolls, there were so many, dozens in fact. They looked to be in some type of order so he grabbed the one that was in front of the others.

“I, Priestess Sthenele comes in awe and admiration-“, Patroclus froze, his hands shaking and his eyes watery. _Mother, this is you._ He did not know exactly what the scrolls were in that minute but he soon figured out that they were her personal feelings and experiences. _It’s as if she was speaking to someone…_

He stopped and looked at the ceiling for a moment before looking over at the crescent moon encrusted stone he’d left across the cave. He ran over to grab it with the scroll in hand, matching the carving to the emblem on the scroll. _Nyx…_

As the night went on, Patroclus sat in the cave reading her scrolls, the first few scrolls being from when she was a teenager, she was quite quirky Patroclus thought but her devotion to this goddess of hers…it perplexed him.

“So be it from here my mother and her mother and mother and her mother and so on have called upon you, oh goddess of the stars-“, _She loved this goddess, she and her mother and her mother…this was in our bloodline, the worship and blessings of Nyx…_

The last two scrolls were different from the first few scrolls, they were set separately from the rest and they seemed smaller, like less was written in them or as if they were just left over scrolls in case she needed more.

Patroclus grabbed the first of the two and leaned back on the cavern wall has he did when he read the others, the stone seated next to him, he opened the scroll and as he began to read, his skin began to crawl.

“I will not survive in this palace much longer if this man continues to do what he pleases, he is not a good man, o’ goddess, I beg of you, though I have neglected my prayers these last few years, shower mercy upon me and my child”, Patroclus stopped for a moment, his heartbeat picking up. He jumps at the sudden sound of bats funneling back into the cave, he puts his hand over his chest to calm himself down. _Man? What man is she speaking of...is it…could it be father?_

He continues to read, “I now know what he desires, and he desires the throne, it makes so much sense as to why he has targeted me, why I have bled many nights because of him. The scars on my thighs have healed from the last night he took me and…O goddess, I only pray now for child and his life”.

Patroclus threw the scroll down, he got up and began to smack at his head, trying to snap himself out of whatever this was. He began pacing. _What man? Who took her? Who made her…who made her bleed?_

He stopped and looked back over at the scroll, mentally battling himself to continue reading or to just stop, wait until morning and leave. Eventually he went to sit back down on the cavern wall, shutting his eyes for one moment and shaking his head before reopening them and grabbing the scroll again as tears ran down his face.

“Menoetius does not know of what he plans but cannot tell him even though I so desire it…found today that I am pregnant with his child from the nights of torture he delivered to me…but I will not have it, I cannot because I am only a few weeks and I am dying…I am dying with this child inside of me. He will be angry with me, he will hurt me once more but I cannot change the decree of the goddess, I thank her. I will not have his child”, Patroclus shudders as he stops reading for a moment to take a few deep breaths.

He brings the scroll back up to eye level, “How no one will ever read this is a possibility but to whoever treads these caves and finds this scroll, tell my son that I love him and that I loved him so much that the only blessing that I’ve asked for is for him to be safe and protected, the dying blessing that I asked for, Know that my child is covered by the blood of every priestess in my bloodline that has come before me, know that he is watched by every star in the sky each night he falls into her sons care of dreams. This is why he fails to harm him, this is why when he threatened to set his room on fire the fire did not come to him, she watches over my child…he will not win against my child, Amphidamas will not win against my child, he won’t”. **_Amphidamas._**

Patroclus covers his mouth quickly as tears and sobs burst from him like buttons bursting from seams. _Amphidamas._ He drops the scroll as he’s leaning on the cavern walls, he stomps one of his feet on the ground, breaking one of the straps to one of his sandals. His vision growing blurry, _my mother._

He uncovers his mouth to let out a small sound as if trying to calm himself but it takes longer than he thinks it will, his emotions are running wild, he feels like there are millions of needles are stuck into his skin. After a few minutes, his trembling hands take the scroll once again and open it.

“So to any soul who appears here, do not mourn the night for she is with mercy and do not deny the sleep her son brings for you for as you wake her daughter conceives the day. Most of all, do not hate the child of death for he is the child of night and the night is eternal”. He looked over the page to see if anything else was written and at the bottom he found something saying “Stone four, scroll two”.

He went slowly, trembling still toward the large stones that had cravings on them, he looked through them until he’d found the fourth stone. He looked at but could not fully understand the writing, it looked like some sort of prayer to him:

_Οη Νψχ, Μψ Γοδδεσς, Ωηεν Ι ιν αωεσομε ωονδερ,_

_Ξονσιδερ αλλ τηε νιγητς τηψ ξηαριοτ ηας ριδδεν,_

_Ι σεε τηε σταρς, Ι σεε τηε μοον ον ηιγη,_

_Τηινε ποωερ τηρουγηουτ τηε υνιϝερσε δισπλαψεδ,_

_Ωηεν τηε μιδνιγητ ηουρ ξομες, Ωιτη βριγητ σταρς οφ αξξλαματιον,_

_Τηεν Ι σηαλλ βοω, Ιν ηυμβλε αδορατιον,_

_Ωιτη νο προτεστ, Ο' Γοδδεσς_

_Λιφε τηε ϝειλ οφ δαρκνεσς ανδ αλλοω με ρεστ_

 

Upon looking at it with blurry eyes he had to keep wiping for a few moments, he then picked up the other small scroll mentioned on the other one and here was the prayer again only this time he could read what the prayer says:

_Oh Nyx, my Goddess, when I in awesome wonder,_

_Consider all the nights thy chariot has ridden,_

_I see the stars, I see the moon on high,_

_Thine power throughout the universe displayed,_

_When the midnight hour comes, with bright stars of acclamation,_

_Then I shall bow, in humble adoration,_

_With no protest,_

_Oh goddess, lift the veil of darkness and allow me rest._

 

After reading it, he dropped the scroll. _Amphidamas._

He’d lost everything and at this point it was because of one man. **_AMPHIDAMAS._**

He took off his tunic, he felt hot, like his skin would burn through the fabric if he did not free himself from it. He could not explain this new sensation, this taste of iron on his tongue. This was not anger, this was rage.


	9. Blood Medley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nyx to many was a facilitator to some of our darkest desires  
> and most horrific actions, be it two lovers sneaking to see each other  
> in the midnight hour or even a murder being committed in the shadows of the night"-Greek Lore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some explicit blood and gore scenes this chapter, Just a heads up

_“…O Lord, My Father when I in awesome wonder…_

_Consider all the world one holds in his hands,_

_You are the sky, you are the rolling thunder,_

_Thy power throughout the entire world displayed”_

  A slender, long wavy haired brunette woman sings near a river where she sits on a stone in the early morning accompanied by a demigod and a centaur. “That was beautiful, Calliope” says the demigod golden and bright.

“Thank you, Achilles…I will want you to sing for me more the next time we meet”, she smiles, even her speaking voice filled with melody and vibrato. He stands and moves forward, taking her hand and placing a kiss upon it very gently as she blushes.

“The charms overflow in you, Achilles, do they not?” She says, still blushing.

The centaur lets out a gentle yet hardy laugh following her words as he stands on all fours and approaches the two, “This is just for show, you should see him when he is eating”, a mischievous grin left on this centaurs lips. Achilles sends a playful glare toward the man as Calliope covers her mouth when she giggles.

“Well, as it is each time I come to you, our time this time has come to an end, Achilles, I will see you…”, she nods her head gracefully as he follows her lead and nods as well, his hands now locked together behind his back, chin in the air. He steps back as she begins to turn around and walk toward the large trees in the distance, the sunlight hitting her and showcasing her divine beauty and brown skin. “Farewell”, she gradually disappears into the air as her last word echoes throughout the entire area of where they are near the river.

The two left standing in silence for a few moments before the centaur breaks the silence, “You should probably be heading back to the palace by now, Achilles”. Achilles takes a moment before he replies, longer than he should in fact so the centaur speaks again.

“You have been gone for-“

“Yeah, yeah, Chiron…I’ll be getting back” the demigod says as he takes his hands and clasps them on top of his head, causing the top part of his two piece chiton to lift and expose his toned stomach. Achilles had been with Chiron on Mount Pelion for four days and had shown up by surprise on top of that but Chiron would never turn him away, even if he did have plans to travel away before the demigod intruded.

“You still have not told me why you showed up so suddenly, Achilles…you have not needed to train with me since you were twelve and I visit the palace as often as I can…”, the centaur trails off waiting for an actual response to the question this time while also mentally trying to figure Achilles’ motives out on his own. Achilles is still standing in the exact same spot with his back turned to Chiron before he eventually turns around, a nonchalant expression on his face, “I don’t know…just felt like coming I guess”.

Chiron had no more questions after that, if something was bothering the demigod then he would have told him, Achilles was straight forward and wasn’t much fond of hiding his true feelings. If Achilles said that he’d just felt like coming then that likely was the exact and only reason he showed up, Chiron knew how impulsive the boy could be.

After a few moments of looking at the sky and taking in the air, Achilles lets out a big sigh and turns toward Chiron, “well I better get on, I hadn’t told father or Eudorus that I was coming here so they may be angry with me” he said, again nonchalantly. Chiron chuckled to himself, this was Achilles, carefree and at times oblivious to his hasty actions. _He just felt like coming, heh._ Achilles picks up his sack with fruit he’d picked a while ago in it and grabbed his bow, Chiron said nothing, he only looked at the boy gather his things and sling the bow over his shoulder with fatherly eyes. Out of all the heroes who he had trained, he felt a connection with Achilles that he did not feel with the others, it was one that a father would feel toward his son. When he’d trained others such as Heracles, Perseus, Jason or Theseus; they had come to him when they were well into their teen years, looking to accomplish a task and sought out help from the famed centaur. Achilles was quite different, the day of Achilles’ fifth birthday, there was a huge feast at the palace of Phthia, gods came, muses came and Chiron was invited, it was that day that Thetis had insisted that Chiron begin teaching Achilles that year.

Chiron had never seen so many gods clamor over and adore one child, he could guess that Hera did not quite hate Achilles as she did Heracles or Perseus because he was not one Zeus’ bastard children. As the years of training went by, Chiron figured out why there was so much fuss over the boy…he was fantastic and brilliant in every sense of the word. He learned and picked up skills quicker than anyone he’d ever trained, he was good at hunting, swordplay, spears, his speed was unparalleled, he could sing, he could play instruments and the list went on and on. He’d grown close to the boy and since Achilles had spent most of his childhood with the man, they developed a type of son-father relationship.

As Achilles walked over to his horse and climbed up rather effortlessly, Chiron began to walk forward and stand by the horse to say his goodbye, “Give my best to Peleus”, Achilles just nodded as he looked into the distance to find the path he’d take down from the mountain. Their goodbyes never were anything special, Achilles would never say goodbye but would nod at Chiron bidding farewell. As Achilles began to walk on the side of the river, going toward the path he’d take from the mountain, He waves his hand as he’s leaving and disappearing over the horizon.

About three hours later Achilles arrived at the Myrmidons training grounds, it was noon by the time he’d gotten there but there wasn’t a soldier on anywhere in sight since it was a day of resting for Phthia. Instead everyone was probably in the palace feasting hall or somewhere in the kingdom visiting families or their wives. The horse slowed down for a bit as he walked through the camp, the silence was weird to him. As he reached closer to the palace he stopped completely and got off of the horse and led it back to one of the stables that were next to a Myrmidon bath house.

As he walked and took in the sight of the ocean he let out another sigh before turned completely toward the gardens of the palace where the fragrance of spring reigned.

Upon eventually reaching the palace, Achilles could hear cheering, cursing and rumbling from the dining room—immediately knowing that the myrmidons were here, he slipped past the dining room and began making his way to his father’s study where he knew he’d be even on Phthia’s resting day. _No rest for the king,_ a chuckle went through his head.

As Achilles reached the door of his father’s study—he stopped and began to think of how he’d apologize for abruptly disappearing, in the end he came up with nothing that would soften the situation and he just shrugged as he entered the room silently. As he closes the door behind him gently he sees his father sitting at his desk—writing and focused while Phoenix is sitting close by in a chair and it would seem that he was sleeping, the man was old so it wasn’t anything new to catch him sleeping during certain times of the day, and the room was quiet and somewhat serene. Achilles stood in front of the door for a moment waiting for his father to acknowledge his returned presence, “Achilles” a soft voice finally rang out. _There it is,_ a smirk sprang onto Achilles’ face as he then began to walk to the other side of the room, opposite of Phoenix and fumble with some of the books sitting on a small table, waiting for a lecture to come.

“Do you have nothing to say, Achilles?” Peleus says, eyes still on the task he is working on before him as if this isn’t the first time this has happened, which it wasn’t. Achilles turned to face his father, arms going to rest on his head once again lifting the top half of his two piece chiton to lift and expose his stomach. A mischievous smile plastered on his face, no words seeming to come to him in response to his father, if Achilles were to be completely honest—it was sort of fun to be in trouble, it was fun to be the ‘not so perfect’ person that many perceived him to be but he genuinely could not help his nature. He enjoyed thrills and he enjoyed testing people, even his father.

After moments pass with Achilles smiling like a child who had just gotten away with stealing an orange from a fruit stand, Peleus finally speaks again, “Achilles, you’ve been gone for four days…you have had duties that you have neglected-“, Peleus is interrupted by a knock at the door, “Yes?” he asks.

“There has been a message sent for you, King Peleus”, the servant says while still standing on the other side of the door. Peleus sighs and looks up for the first time since Achilles entered the room, he gives Achilles a slight frown when he looks to see that the demigod still has that same silly grin on his face, shaking his head not knowing exactly what to do with his wayward son.

Peleus turns from Achilles and to the scrolls before him, clearing them as it seems he’s not going to get much more done at this moment, “You may enter”.

The servant enters the room and bows, he has in his hand a scroll that he places on the desk of the king and before leaving the servant bowed again upon finally departing and closing the door softly behind himself. Peleus sighs and picks up the scroll, not at all truly phased that once he puts away work, more work comes to him.

“How do you do it?” Achilles asks, closer to his father’s desk now and staring out of the window in the room. “You will have to do it someday, Achilles”, Peleus says as he sighs again and begins opening the scroll to get a look at what it says.

Achilles was staring out of the window when he noticed the room had gotten still, the only thing that could be heard at this point was the snoring of Phoenix. The sound of the scroll rattling as his father read it stopped and his father stopped making any noise altogether. Achilles dropped his hands and turned around to see what his father was doing, Peleus was sitting perfectly still and his mouth partially open before finally closing it and bringing a hand to his chin, as if he had gone deep into thought.

“Father?” Achilles called to him softly though no response came, Peleus only sat the scroll down and let out a sigh that was different from before, there was a distressing tone in his voice now.

“Old friend…” Peleus mutters and Achilles still looking at him with furrowed brows, completely confused though he figured he would wait for a response rather than pry for one. Moments passed until Peleus finally moved from his statue-like position, he slowly put down the scroll and turned his head to see Achilles standing there. He turned to the scroll for a moment again before looking back at Achilles as he finally answers his son in a weak, cracking voice, “King Menoetius has passed”.

There is a silence in the room, a stillness—neither move nor say anything as the snores of a sleeping Phoenix is the only sound that can be heard coming from the study.

 

 

OPUS

  Behind the palace of Opus, through the many stocky and tall trees, toward the mountains and inside of a cave sat a figure that hasn’t moved from his sitting position against the cavern walls for an entire two weeks. Thin and sleep deprived, mentally and emotionally broken, scars on his arms and legs from where he’d scratched himself bloody as the itchy ground he sat on clawed at him. Bags under moist red eyes, his hair as wild as it has ever been, he sits here in this cave, his mother’s cave—no, his mother’s sanctuary. Where she had cried out to a goddess and sent praises up into the midnight hour.

Unblinking, he just sat there with his lips partially parted, wild strands of hair shielding his eyes as shaggy old worn out curtains would do a window. His arms wrapped around himself as he sat on his side, legs uncomfortably bent sideways but his feet touching one another made the position he sat in a bit bearable. If the world had felt cruel and cold to the broken figure sitting, almost practically lying on the cavern floor before, it had felt like nothing at all now. Flies come and go from sitting on the many places on his face, he’s unmoved by the sounds of bats returning to the cave as a soft shower of rainfall begins outside. He begins to hear the rain as it hits the ground from in the cave, each drop sounding like a clap of thunder to him in this state, a state of numbness.

 _She suffered here._ His shoulders begin to shudder as the coolness that is brought by the rain begins to fill the cave. His torn tunic still in the same place where he was the moment he ripped it from his body, becoming more accustomed to his nude form, the only warmth coming from the arms of his that wrapped around him. _I have bled many nights because of him,_ the words that he had read two weeks ago from that scroll he’d thrown to the other side of the cave soon after ripping tunic from body ring through his head. He shuts his eyes trying to shut out hearing her voice speak the words that were on the scroll. _The scars on my thighs_ , He’s failing. He quickly brings his hands up to his hears, trying to no more hear the thoughts that are returning to him.

His rage having turned inside out and driven him into a state of pure despair and madness, under every emotion he feels rage lurking beneath. The rain outside begins to become heavier and the drops now banging against his eardrums. He opens his eyes as a tear falls from only one of them with his hands still placed over his ears, trying to drive out both the thoughts and the sound of rain. He looks up at the ceiling to see the purple crystals and upon seeing them he begins to smile, the smile quickly turns into a soft laugh, “very…very beautiful”, he stares at the ceiling becoming still and enraptured with the beauty of the crystals. He’s done this many times as he’s set in the cave and in his madness, the sight of them seemed to calm him. His laughing subsiding and his facial expression turning into something of awe as he continued to lift his head up toward the ceiling. He’s so enamored with the sight that his thoughts begin to once again go blank and his hands fall from his ears and to his side. His smile plastered across his face as he stands and begins to twirl slowly, spreading his arms out while staring at the ceiling, “There is a place…a place where I can always go” he continues to twirl while eyeing the crystals, “The goddess…Nyx will hide me here, away from the rain”. The rain continues to pour as he twirls, smiling like all of his dying dreams had come all at once to fruition. “Nyx will keep me safe from harm” he lifts his hands, laughing “I’ve found her place, a place where I can go”.

“For Nyx will hide me here from my enemies…from Amphidamas, from the rest of the gods, there is safety! Here in your cave, mother!” His voice gradually growing louder, full and strong from the two weeks he’s spent on the ground quiet as his voice healed.

“My secret place” he then whispers, closing his eyes with his head lifted and arms outstretched.

“A dwelling place…” his twirl slows and his arms begin to fall, he begins to remember. The cave now silent as he becomes quiet, nothing but rain to be heard now. Now standing still, he opens his eyes and stares at the crystals in the ceiling again and his thoughts begin to become once again infected with images of the man who he’d come to loathe above anyone else these last two weeks. _I am dying…I am dying with this child inside of me_. The room grew still as his mind made its way to the night he’d read the scrolls. He began to stumble back to his spot in the cave through the tears that were beginning to blur and blind his vision. He slumped down in a fetal position. _She had felt such…pain, only pain, and though she probably spoke no words everything she said could probably be heard…_

His dead gaze dropping to the cavern floor, _all the love she had left is the love she poured onto me in her last dying days. No one was there the night that he found her, no one felt what she felt when he wrapped his disgusting arms around her._ His breathing becoming heavier and heavier as his thoughts ran their course. _She was fine until that monster came to her and broke her, broke her with the torment of his touch, how could I not have seen what was happening…maybe she did not tell anyone because she thought they’d be angry…angry that she washed that monster’s desires with her presence and compliance._

He folded his arms on his knees and rested his chin there, digging his nails into his arms _, and now father…she suffered only to have him taken as well._ “I was so foolish…how could I have not seen…” he begins crying like he has done time and time again. _No one knows the cost of her blood, NO ONE knew the cost of the praise she poured onto her goddess, Nyx. No one was THERE!_

He grits his teeth through the pain of his nails digging into his arms and drawing blood, “I WASN’T THERE!” he finally screams, his voice echoing throughout the cave as rain continued to fall outside.

The rain continued throughout the rest of the evening and throughout the entire night until dawn. As the sun rose on a cool day in Opus, the skies had cleared, making way for the sun and its light. The last of the fire Patroclus had set up for the night in the cave had gone out my morning, he was still in the same position, still in his head; _she bled…her blood,_ “her blood” he mutters under his breath quietly as he prepares to stand, stumbling over his feet in the process. He stood still for a moment, closing and opening his eyes as he sighed and tried to gather himself, three weeks with no sleep and two with no food has only added to the state he was in. _Mother…your gift of love, I-,_ He stumbles over to the purple stone lying next to his ripped tunic and picks it up. He cradles the stone as one would cradle an infant, _to be led by your stone and rock…_ , He walks closer to his tunic and picks it up; holding it out and viewing it as if was something foreign to him. He takes the ripped and puts it around himself to wear it goes across his shoulder and down to his waste, he ties it at the end. Near his waste the tunic forms a bit of a pouch and there he puts the crescent moon engraved stone.

He then looks around the cave at the scrolls, the stones, the crystals on the ceiling and he pauses for a moment; taking it all in. After a few moments he begins to slow walk his way from the cave using the little light he could see coming from the entrance of the cave. Despite there being a little light for him to navigate himself out of the cave, he still held on to the wall. He could hear birds outside chirping and begin to see squirrels and rabbits running pass the cave or up trees as he neared the entrance. When he got there he stopped and used a hand to hold himself up and the other hand to cover his eyes with his arm, it had been days since he’d seen outside and seen the sun even though it was partly cloudy out. After waiting a moment he began to walk out of the cave and start his journey, slightly beginning to limp due to sitting a certain uncomfortable way in the cave for days on end.

 

-

 

Back at the palace of Opus, there was a busy stream of things to be done today, servants on tight schedules as it seemed an event was to take place very soon. Maids walking quickly with tunics and freshly washed clothing in hand. Servants with plates only used for really important feasts and events of the like, there were even families of some of the royal courts members staying at the palace.

“And these?” A servant asks an elderly maid.

“These are to go to the fourth guest room to your right as you climb the stairs, Marisius” she answers to the younger maid with a smile.

“Thank you-“She’s cut off by a scream and the sound of plates smashing against the floor. The two maids turn to the entrance of the palace to see what is happening only to see someone whose naked and muddy arrive, startling some of the servants and guardsmen alike.

Patroclus stumbles into the palace, a slight smile of his face; a few gasps are let out he enters. Patroclus looks around to see every eye on him but he keeps slowly walking into the palace as best he can. He begins looking around, becoming curious as to why not one servant or maid greeted him properly. “Is there no greeting for the prince of this palace?” Patroclus laughed with his arms sprawled out in the air. The room began to fill gradually as passing servants and maids on their schedule stopped in their tracks when passing by. The two guards behind Patroclus were at a loss at what to do at that moment, exchanging glances of confusion between one another.

“Prince Patroclus!” a very familiar voice to Patroclus broke the silence, it was the elderly maid, as she made her way to him his eyes locked on her. _I really should learn her name._ He noticed that she walked with a limp and that her back probably wasn’t in any good condition these days as she had a bit of a hunch to her walk.

As she passed one of the servants standing with their mouths open, she grabbed a towel off of the top of the ones they were carrying, covering Patroclus as she approached him.

“We thought you dead, Prince Patroclus!” She says, fussing as if she was his grandmother, “You’ve had everyone worried, the council and Amphidamas have been searching all over for you”. **_Amphidamas._**

Patroclus’ eyes flashed at the name but his unnerving smile remained plastered onto his face, his relaxed expression unmoving as if he was not completely naked and half covered in mud while smelling awful to add to the list of odd things going on with him in the servants eyes.

“And why would I be dead?” he asks in a pleasant and soft voice, “I am just happy to finally be home”.

Down the staircase came Amphidamas followed by a few members of the court and a few other people Patroclus doesn’t seem to recognize aside from Clitonymus and his mother trailing behind him, Clemencia.

“Patroclus? Is it really…is it really you?” Amphidamas stops just at the bottom of the stairs and begins to walk forward slowly with his arms held out, “It is, isn’t it? It is you, Patroclus”. For a moment Patroclus’ smile disappears but after a few moments of Amphidamas reaching for him and looking him over to check to see if he’s unharmed, his soft smile returns.

“Well…where have you been? You’ve had the entire kingdom worried? We announced you were missing almost two weeks ago when your father’s chambers were empty and you were nowhere to be found the next morning…we thought you dead.” Amphidamas talking quickly and visibly concerned about the illusive prince.

“I am well” Patroclus says, his smile plastered onto his face, his hand clenching at the tunic he’s wearing or rather the stone it holds in it. Amphidamas raises an eyebrow and looks him over again with mud on him and a ripped tunic wrapped around him. Not to mention Patroclus’ hair and eyes made him look as though he was a rabid stray animal. However, he decided to take the boy’s word for it.

“We must get you cleaned up, Elindis?” He calls and the elderly woman who first approached Patroclus makes direct eye contact with Amphidamas.

“Will you take Patroclus and get him cleaned up for the night?”

“Yes, of course, King Amphidamas”

A chill went through Patroclus’ body as the words king and Amphidamas were joined together in front of him but his smile still remained.

“Come, Patroclus” Elindis says as she takes him by the shoulders and begins to lead him up the stairs. As they get up the stairs and turn into a hallway, it’s quiet, she does not speak to him; instead she’s focused on finding the room. This part of the palace is familiar to Patroclus, it is the guest wing of the palace and by the way the old maid was sometimes stopping to check rooms, it seemed to be a lot of guest currently staying within the palace, whole families Patroclus had guessed.

The old woman had smelled of food so Patroclus had guessed she was also one of the maids who helped handle the cooking in the palace as well. Eventually they stopped in front of a door, the same as the others; once opened she motioned for him to go in first and then she followed. In the room was already a basin with fresh tunics on the side of it, the bed was also well made and looked like it had been stayed in already before Patroclus arrived.

Patroclus looked around the room, curious since he’d never stayed in a guest room in his palace, “Was someone else staying here?” he asks.

“Yes, one of the noble families relatives” the elderly maid responds as she grabs a towel and dips it in the basin water. She looks beside her to see the naked boy looking around, a smile placed upon his face and she is worried, he does not seem well and she wishes to bring this up without upsetting him.

She walks over to him with towel in hand and proceeds to reach for the shoulder end of the ripped tunic wrapped around him before her quickly grabs her wrist. “I can do it” he says gently as he removes her hand and removes the ripped tunic holding the stone inside of it. “Please do not bother to take the tunic for washing, I would like to keep it here with me” he says as she brings the towel to his chest and begins washing away the dirt.

“Oh…very well then” she smiles nervously at the weird request. As she finishes up with his back she leans down to try and wash the lower parts of his body but she cannot quite bend.

“That is alright; Elindis, is it? I can take it from here” she looks up and is met with a smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes” He takes the towel from her and motions for her to instead sit on the bed, she stands still for a moment not sure if she should, she was a maid and she had no business resting at a time like this. She eventually and reluctantly limps her way to the bed with one of her hands holding her lower back. She sighs as she sits.

A few moments pass, Elindis is still sitting on the bed while Patroclus is by the basin cleaning himself. While he’s cleaning his backside he looks over to the elderly woman who’s rubbing her neck, “Why did you call me Prince Patroclus?”

“Hmm?”

“I am prince no more, so why did you call me Prince Patroclus?” He asks again in a soft tone.

“I guess it would be by habit, my dear” she lets out a laugh that soon turns into a cough. She was clearly past her prime and should not have been here cleaning after people and cleaning people themselves.

“I see”

After about 15 minutes of washing himself Patroclus had finished and then went over to pick out one of the new tunics since he could not wear his mother’s as it was torn and ripped up. The maid watched him and got up from the bed as she saw him finish.

“It would seem I was useless here” she says, a chuckle in her voice.

“Not at all, Elindis, you have been of much help to me” Patroclus says as he takes her hand and squeezes it. Looking into his bloodshot eyes and the bags that came with them made her pity the boy.

“Get some sleep tonight, Patroclus, please” she says almost in a pleading voice.

“I will be sure to do that” he says as he sees her out of the room. When the door closes Patroclus stands there, motionless. His mind blank and his body numb but after five minutes of staring at the door he turns but to his disliking, there was no window in this room and so he looked at the wall for a few moments; it’s as if he was waiting for one to appear for him just be looking at a particular spot on the wall. He then turns to the bed with his torn tunic on it and goes to sit on it, he picks up the tattered tunic while the stone falls out onto the bed and he holds it close to his cheek. Rubbing the fabric constantly against his skin. It felt like home to him even though now this palace does not, it reminded him of safety while this palace had seemingly been invaded by strangers.

As he rubbed the tunic against his cheek his hands ventured down the tunic to look for that very flower that was sown onto the tunic. A sigh is released from him as he’s sitting and holding the tunic with the stone next to him. After about an hour alone Patroclus receives a knock on the door, it’s a soft knock but it still surprises him.

“Patroclus? It’s Amphidamas, May I enter?”

Patroclus pauses for a moment and looks down at the torn tunic as if Amphidamas is asking the ripped fabric in his hand or him for permission to enter the room. Another knock comes and Patroclus slowly takes the tunic and puts the stone in it, balling the fabric up and putting on the bed before responding to the man.

“You may come in” the door creaks open as Amphidamas slowly comes in, looking at Patroclus and around the room as he’s taking the sight in.

“Patroclus, it’s good to see you…I…I thought we’d never meet again after you disappeared” Amphidamas says as he’s gradually moving forward, hands behind him.

“Well, I am here now” Patroclus struggles through a smile.

Amphidamas stops midway between the door and the bed, he reveals a white marble vase that he was holding as he entered the room. Patroclus’ eyes widen a bit because if that is what he thinks it is…

Amphidamas reaches the bed and sits while place the vase on his lap as Patroclus cannot take his eyes off of the object. There’s a moment of silent as Amphidamas marvels at the vase as well, admiring the golden rings at the top of it and running his hands on the smooth sides of it.

“…These are…these are your father’s ashes Patroclus”. Patroclus cannot take his eyes off the vase and gives Amphidamas a weary and nervous look as the man begins to lift the vase and give it to him, “It belongs with you, Patroclus”.

Patroclus says nothing as he holds the vase in his hands, staring at it as he vision turns blurry. They sit for a while in silence, Amphidamas making it his mission not to interrupt this moment between father and son. Patroclus’ silence said everything, he was still grieving and Amphidamas picked up on his eyes and how the boy looked stressed and broken.

After a few moments of sniffling and admiring the vase that held is father he turned to Amphidamas, a sad smile placed upon his face—“thank you”. Amphidamas snaps his head toward Patroclus with a surprised expression, “Might I ask…for what exactly, Patroclus?”

“For everything, you’ve done much for me in this time of grief-“

“Patroclus I-“

“You’ve stepped up when I could not, you are a capable man, Amphidamas and I just wanted to thank you” Patroclus says, a smile accompanied by watery eyes as he looks at Amphidamas.

“Patroclus…truth is…”

Patroclus freezes, _is he feeling guilty? Will he admit to his heinous crimes?_ His chest grows tight.

“…Truth is Patroclus, I feel I have failed you, I have not been able to help you when you clearly need it. I wish there was something more I could do”.

Patroclus sat there and looked at the man with his mouth agape, “I should have tried harder…I failed you” Amphidamas says, holding his head down now with his gaze to his lap.

Patroclus surprised and shocked at what the man was saying, his rage had dissipated into disgust. _How could you? How could you do all of this and still not feel a thing? Still be a liar? What manner of man are you?_

“I could not even save you from your title as King being snatched away…”

Patroclus was motionless at this point, wiping his eyes and taking deep breaths. He felt hot all over again just like in the cave, as if his skin would melt off of his bones right this second; as if Hyperion himself was standing in front of him in all of his light.

“So you are king now” Patroclus’ voice now monotone and bland.

“Yes…it has only been four days since I was voted in but-“a nervous laugh escapes the man

“You deserve it”, at this Amphidamas turns to view Patroclus only to find the boys head down, hands clutching to the vase.

“…Patroclus-“

“You truly deserve the crown, Amphidamas, you have earned it” there was a strange tone to Patroclus’ voice that made Amphidamas quite uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Patroclus…the crowning feast is actually tomorrow evening, will you attend?”

“Of course”

“Ah…it warms me to know that in a way Menoetius will be there to celebrate my crowning, he’d have wanted the kingdom to move on and become stronger” Amphidamas said, his voice soft and soothing.

“Yes, he would have”

Amphidamas is staring at his lap for a few moments before speaking again, “You know Patroclus”, he adjusted himself on the bed as to now the upper portion of his body was facing Patroclus.

“I didn’t have much growing up, with a father fallen ill, a mother working the on the market all day and three siblings to look after” he paused and looked at Patroclus directly now.

“I was the oldest, you know…it was up to me to look after them”, Patroclus now with his head slightly turned toward Amphidamas makes eye contact with him.

“I was doing the cooking, cleaning, sending all three siblings off to do their fair share for the home and one day my father had gotten up from the bed he’d been in for what had to have been…had to have been two years then. He went and sat in our front yard and called all four of us to him as we returned home one by one. Told us he loved us and right then and there, he told me that death was a part of life, it is the very thing that keeps us going because we want to live our lives to the fullest, right? I had big dreams and dreams to take care of my family. Though it was after that day he had spoken to all four of us that he had passed silently in the night…”

Patroclus was listening intently to the man, “I had wanted to be known and respected, to live a life of decency and beyond…”he turns to Patroclus, “What I’m trying to say Patroclus Is that yes, you’ve experienced loss but now, now is the time to live your life and spare no expense at taking chances. If not for you, live for your mother and your father” the man says quietly and confidently. _My mother._

Patroclus begins to feel his eyes water as Amphidamas puts a hand softly on the boys back, patting him gently.

“In all honesty Patroclus, I was rooting for you, the rest of the court may not have been, they may not have had faith in you while you were grieving but me…I had faith. I voted for you when only one other did…I just…I believe you get past this” Amphidamas says as he stands up.

Patroclus still silent, follows him with his eyes and Amphidamas then takes a hand and lays it on Patroclus’ shoulder, as to give him comfort and show support for the boy. He then turns and begins to walk toward the door.

“Amphidamas” he calls out to the man.

Amphidamas turns around, “I mean…King Amphidamas…thank you”, and with that Amphidamas smiles with a nod and continues his way out of the room. As the door closes behind the man, Patroclus sits still for a few moments before eventually clinging to the vase tightly. He then got up from his sitting position and got in the bed, laying down while holding the vase in his arms and as he laid there and closed his eyes thoughts began to rush through him, thoughts of Las, the Athenian soldier he’d killed in Phthia.

_“Pray to whatever god on Olympus you can before it’s over, boy”_

_“I do not wish to fight with you”_

His father.

_“You were crying in your sleep again, Patroclus…”_

_“Do you want to pray?”_

His mother.

“The garden, Patroclus, you promised you would help me today”

_“Though I have neglected my prayers these last few years, shower mercy upon me and my child”_

_Achilles. Peleus. Automedon._

He cannot sleep but thoughts continue to consume him, engulfing him in the flames of despair. _I will never see any of these people ever again_ , a tear escapes one of his closed eyes. _This is it._

-

 

The night looms on until a cloudy morning arrives, the day as cool as the day before it was but there is more of a breeze today. Elindis is on her morning duties as she usually is during this time of the day. As the eldest of the maids she oversees a lot of things from cooking to cleaning to laundry, she’s done it all so it all makes sense that she oversees it all. However, ever since Amphidamas and his family moved into the palace and noble families have been visiting more frequently and staying as guests, it had been incredibly more busy than it was back when it was just Menoetius and Patroclus in the palace. Nevertheless, Elindis isn’t complaining, she never complains; she’d rather be useful and use her time helping the younger employees here at the palace rather than worrying about herself because had she’d been worrying about herself—her back wouldn’t be in the horrible condition that it is now.

“Peisanda, those are to go to the wash room and also make sure you bring the clean sheets up while you are in there.”

“Yes, Elindis”

“Make sure you really get in there when you scrub those plates, Doris, stains like to stick faithfully to those plates”

“Yes, miss Elindis”

“Miss Elindis, You shouldn’t be doing that heavy lifting” one of the girls call to her as they pass by with a hand full of plates for the breakfast serving.

“Oh don’t worry about me, girl, you take those plates on to the dining room” she laughs as she is carrying plates of her own to from a washing basin over to a table in the kitchen. After setting them down she holds her back with both of her hands. She’d been here for nearly 30 years and still wasn’t quite tired of it, she just had a helping hand in her, she loved what she did but lately her body had been rejecting the work she was doing. After taking a short rest leaning against a table in the kitchen for a bit, she started up the stairs of the palace to check on the guests, asking if anyone needed new sheets or tunics and letting everyone know how long it would be until breakfast was set in the dining room.

Her humming could be heard up and down the hallway, she was nearing the room where Patroclus was and as she approached and knocked, “Prince-ahem, Patroclus, breakfast will be served very soon”, she got no answer. Usually even guests who were sleep this morning answered, either his drowsy or annoyed voices or by answering the door. Patroclus did none of the two so she knocked and repeated herself once more before she started to walk away. However, something in her gut told her to go back and check again on the boy, the night before when she’d seen him, even all cleaned up he still looked worse for wear. She knocks again and again only to get no answer and so he puts her ear to the door to see if she could at least hear snoring and to her surprise she heard nothing. Her eyes widened, “Patroclus!” she stormed into the room and rushed to the figure on the bed, he was lying on his back holding the vase in his hands. Each step she had taken into the room sent a sharp pain down her back.

“Patroclus, answer if you are-“, Patroclus slowly opened his eyes.

“Oh by Hestia’s grace, you frightened me” the old woman said has she clutched her chest as If she was going to have a heart attack. Patroclus blinked a few times before sitting up and placing the vase beside him on the bed, “has something happened Elindis?” he’d asked.

“I knocked on the door-“ her breaking heavy, “I knocked many times and I couldn’t hear anything in the room and I thought-I thought-“

Patroclus was silent as she struggled to speak and had to stop to catch her breath, “I’m just glad you are alright, Patroclus.” As she’s speaking to him, he zones out and his thoughts come flooding in again.

_“Are you alright, Patroclus?”_

_“Is it fair to say you’ve been having a difficult time?”_

_“Well yeah…I mean I’ve been up…and I’ve been down.”_

“Patroclus? Patroclus?” He snaps out of his thoughts and turns his eyes once again to Elindis, “Yes?”

“I said that breakfast will be served soon if you wish to join and the crowning begins later this evening, I will send someone to remind you.” she smiled as she was preparing to leave the room.

“Thank you for informing me” he says, cracking a smile toward her. _It’s over._

As the door closed he sat there and watched the door before turning to pull the torn tunic toward him with the stone on it and then grab the vase with his father’s ashes in it. Surrounded by these items he felt nothing anymore, no pain, no safety—he wanted to feel but he simply could not in this moment at this time. As the day grew older he sat in that very same spot, thinking, people’s faces who’d become dear to him running through his head over and over. A knock had come at the door and this time he would answer it, he placed the vase gently on the floor and went to see who it could be.

“Patroclus, hello, I was sent to inform you that the crowning for King Amphidamas and the induction of his family as the royal family of Opus begins very soon, you should begin to prepare yourself” a girl with bright red hair stood before him, one of the same girls who had come to him the day of his father’s funeral to wash him.

Patroclus smiled at her, “Thank you, may I ask for your name?” the girl looked shocked for a minute, she was but a servant, why would someone of Patroclus’ caliber want to know anything about her. Stuttering, she answers him, “It is Peisanda” she says while a blush arrives on her cheeks.

“That is a beautiful name, thank you again for reminding me of tonight’s events” Patroclus said softly. She was going to bow but stopped herself, confused as to what to do since Patroclus was not royalty anymore. “it is quite alright” he caught her by her arm and gently stood her up, “there is no need” after a moment of awkwardness and blushing she settled with nodding and swiftly leaving. As she left Patroclus got a good look of the hall, there were many servants, maids, noble family relatives in the palace, all scrambling to prepare for the crowning dinner.

Patroclus stood in his room with another new tunic on, this one appropriate for very special nights such as this one. As he adjusted the tunic onto his body to get comfortable there was another knock at his door which he quickly answered.

“Patroclus.” A stern voice greets him as the stocky boy steps into the room.

“Hello, Clitonymus” Patroclus not surprised that the larger boy would just walk in, uninvited.

Clitonymus looks around the room for a minute, a pompous smirk on his face, and “this room is quite small compared to the one you had before isn’t it?” he questions to himself; Patroclus remains quiet.

Upon looking around the room Clitonymus’ eyes catch sight of the white marble vase and he looks toward Patroclus with curiosity in his eyes, “my father’s ashes are in that vase” Patroclus says. Clitonymus’ face slightly winces at the thought and he gives a sympathetic smile.

“So you’re coming to the crowning, are you?”

“Yes”

Clitonymus nods his head as if Patroclus said something he agrees with, “Mighty big of you, Patroclus…I mean to appear before everyone who is anyone in the kingdom after being dethroned, it’s quite big of you to show support to my father”. The boy had the natural inclined gift for being the most vile he could be in the most inappropriate moments.

“It is of no worry to me, your father has done a well to both help me and keep the kingdom stable when my father passed” Patroclus responded now walking over to the bed to sit.

Clitonymus’ eyes were on Patroclus, despite he knew the boy had went through, he still felt an urge to irritate him though he’d find it wouldn’t work this time.

“I’m sorry, I just—are you naturally just a push over or-“

“Clitonymus” Patroclus says with false shock and surprise at the boy saying such things.

“You just don’t seem too bothered by any of this, just a month ago your father was alive and you were on a princely trip in Phthia and now you don’t have a father and you don’t have a crown-“Clitonymus stopped himself, he could be nasty but even he knew he was in the wrong here, becoming prince has worsened his attitude. A silence had filled the room as Clitonymus awkwardly began looking around the room and kicking at his feet.

Patroclus held his head down, not speaking or moving before finally breaking the silence, “I just thought…I thought things would change given all that has happened, you know?”

“My apologies, Patroclus” Clitonymus said genuinely, whether it was genuine or not however, Patroclus was just happy to hear those words.

“It’s okay”

Another brief silence arrived before Patroclus hopped up and went toward Clitonymus, “now let’s go see your father get crowned” he said with a smirk.

“Prince Clitonymus” at this Clitonymus shined his usual pompous smile but this time it was a bit friendlier.

As Patroclus descended the stairs of the palace he was greeted by quite the crowd, nobles, advisers and royal court members were shuffling into the dining hall. As he stood there he decided to take it all in, he was prince no more and he knew he would never be here again, and he would never see the palace that paled in comparison to every other palace in all of the land. He’d never get to see the ceiling that had no art on its ceilings, the caves in the back, the garden he and his mother worked in, all of it would soon be but a distant memory. He smiled as his bloodshot eyes caught sight of the statue next to the entrance of the dining room, It was his favorite in the palace, it was a statue of lion and for some reason at this point in time he was admiring it truly for the first time, not only as his favorite in the palace but it’s always been there in his life as he grew up in this place. His mother and father had gone, his crown was gone but the lion…it remained.

“Patroclus” A voice called to him and he turned to find that it was Elindis.

“The dinner has begun” she says with a smile and motions for him to enter the room. As he enters he is in awe of they had done with the room, fire lanterns had hung above every table in the room, there were large white wax candles on each table as well and it seems they have also brought in new statues, statues of what looks like warriors. Speaking of, guards lined the walls with swords and shields as there were two or three servants at each table ready to serve and help at all times during the dinner. Patroclus was guided to the front table at his surprise, he wouldn’t have expected them to allow him to sit among the new royal family.

“Patroclus” Amphidamas stood with a crown on his head and his arms outstretched, his smile big and wide. Patroclus approached him slowly and hugged the man awkwardly at first but then it had turned into a genuine hug of comfort. As they parted each other’s space Patroclus returned a big smile to him.

“Please, Patroclus” Amphidamas motions for him to sit at his table with his wife, son and other court members and nobles. The table was a long one and Patroclus’ seat was next to an adviser while he sat across from Clitonymus who was seated next to his mother, Clemencia.

“To my husband!” Clemencia abruptly stood, “to the man who shouldered mountains of responsibility and proved to be a man worthy of ruling and leading a kingdom” The room stops and stare while she speaks and then breaks out in applause and cheer as she raises her wine cup, toasting to her husband.

“I am very proud of you, my dear” she leans down to kiss Amphidamas on his cheek. Clitonymus is grinning from ear to ear as he chucks down his wine. Patroclus looks into his cup, the dark violet liquid moving around as he ponders what the quality of it is but he eventually shrugs and downs the entire cup in one gulp. Afterwards he puts down his cup rather hard and burps with a smile on his face, “All hail the KING! King Amphidamas!” he receives the rooms attention and while some cheer with him, there are some that are still deeply concerned for him. There is some chattering about his health and how he’s not too well in the head these days and he hears some of the chattering but it does not bother him tonight, he has come to have a good time.

“Ha-ha, yes Patroclus, tonight we feast and celebrate a new Opus” Amphidamas lifts his cup and Patroclus holds his cup out for a refill by the nearest servant.

As the dinner continues and the food is served, conversation begins to erupt in the room, “So yes, I’m thinking of turning the entire left wing into me and Clitonymus’ quarter, somewhere we can have space” Clemencia goes on.

“Well what about the servant quarters, Clemencia…do you plan to throw them in the basement or something” The woman at the table laughs.

“Well now that you mention it” she laughs along with her. It isn’t long before Amphidamas begins to start talking after he finishes his last piece of fish. “I was quite thinking of actually making the right wing mine and yours though, Clemencia, will you deny me an area with my wife?” He says teasingly, the table laughing with them.

“My dear, then I will just have both the right and the left and share It with both of my boys” She kisses Clitonymus’ head but he pulls away, embarrassed. “Mother” he says sternly as she pouts. “Oh don’t be like that Cli’, a man never turns away his mother’s love.”

“Oh come, Clemencia, leave the boy, he won’t find a wife if you keep up”. The table once again bursts out in laughter. Clemencia on her eighth cup of wine sees Patroclus sitting rather quietly as he gulps down another cup as well, she narrows her eyes at the boy as her mind runs with ideas of what to say, and like mother like son one would say.

“Patroclus, what of you, dear?” to her surprise Patroclus was quick to speak tonight.

“What of me, Clemencia?” his tone is low and his red eyes deader than they usually are these days, his smile maniacal. The table stands still and laughter pauses as they hear his voice, a rugged undertone to it now.

“Ah!” She says, offended.

“Is there not a crown upon my head? Am I not now the queen of Opus?” she says eyeing both Amphidamas as if she expects him to chime in if Patroclus continues to offend her.

Patroclus looks around the table as if he’s searching for something and he finds it rather quickly, “My apologies my queen” he takes a gulp of wine from someone else’s cup. Clemencia smirks and holds her wine cup up, “You see, that is how you demand-“

“However” Patroclus cuts her off, his voice sharp with spite in it, “being a queen means nothing when death draws near, does it?” he sneers at her.

“Patroclus” Amphidamas calls on him sternly and Patroclus looks his way, “yes, King Amphidamas…do you have something to add?”

“I think it best if you-“

“Remember Queen Sthenele?” Patroclus eyes narrow and his lips purse against one another. Clemencia scoffs, “What? Your mother-“

“Be quiet, wench” Patroclus shoots quickly and the entire room goes quiet, servants and maids alike stop what they are doing. Elindis herself is even watching the spectacle now.

“HEY!” Clitonymus gets up from his chair, hands balled into a fist. Amphidamas eyes are wide and in shock.

Patroclus burps again, “Sit down, Clitonymus” he says calmly. Clemencia turns to her husband, “Will you let him behave this way-“

“And I told you to be quiet…wench” his eyes are dead and his pupils dilated, as if someone else is here instead of him.

“PATROCLUS!” Amphidamas yells. Patroclus looks at the man in shock, eyes wide, he regards the man for a moment. He then begins to laugh and cover his mouth as he could not stop for a moment.

“What is the meaning of this, Patroclus?!” The king demands.

Patroclus’ laugh diminishes to a chuckle and then completely dissipates and he sighs, “…There is no meaning to this, murderer, there is no meaning to this entire night…”

“Father, he should be punished, lynched or his back skinned” Clitonymus shoots.

“Oh be quiet you feeble minded fool! Clitonymus, you’re so proud of your father…the very same father who rapes queens that he is supposed to serve faithfully and sneaks around like a common rat in the night.”

“That is IT!” Clemencia stands as well, “You are welcome here no more! Guards!” guards begin to unsheathe their swords and prepare for escorting Patroclus out, either peacefully or by force.

Amphidamas and Patroclus’ eyes have met and a stare down begins, Patroclus’ face twisting in disgust and Amphidamas’ anger and irritation becoming visible by the second, the vein in his head telling everyone.

“Are you going to tell them…or am I?” Patroclus speaks into the heavy atmosphere of the room. Amphidamas’ hand begins to shake as it goes from his cup to rubbing his chin. Patroclus then sits up and looks at Amphidamas even harder and narrows his eyes.

“No one will believe anything you say, boy” Amphidamas stares him down, death in his eyes as if he is going to leap across the table and strangle Patroclus.

“What is he talking about, father” Clitonymus asks, hands still balled into a fist and a scowl on his face, he is ready to go for Patroclus as well.

“It doesn’t matter, guards!-“

“Father, what does he mean?!” Patroclus turns his dead gaze toward Clitonymus, “I mean, Clitonymus, you’re not precious and you’re not special.”

“Patroclus, you would do best to watch what you say, I AM now prince and my father is now king-“

Patroclus blinks and turns toward Amphidamas, “Your father?” he scoffs, “or is it my step-father? Was that your aim, Amphidamas? As you forced yourself upon my mother?”

“Amphidamas get him OUT of HERE!” Clemencia screams, enraged at the boy.

“Ooh let me see, mothers, fathers, uncles, dead babies-“

“Patroclus, I am warning you…” Amphidamas’ voice low and slick with threat. Patroclus chuckles again, “You're warning me? And you think I care?” Patroclus turns back to Clitonymus, “Your own father can’t even look you in the eye and tell you the truth and even if he did, you’re probably too thick to comprehend anything and look at your mother, she’s nothing special either, just another pathetic harlot drinking herself to her wits end and probably ready to be passed around by the palace guards as her husband preys on another woman-“

“ENOUGH!” Amphidamas screams but Patroclus does not pause for long.

Clitonymus, now furious shaking his head in disbelief of what Patroclus had just said to him, “What did you say?”

“I said your mother is a wine drinking, crying, scabby old dog and you’re not that different”, Clitonymus just about almost knocks the table over as he climbs onto the table and reaches for the front of Patroclus’ tunic.

“Guards! Cease him!” Clemencia screams as hysteria consumes the room, “Clitonymus let him go!” Guard’s crowd around Patroclus, two to be exact as they try and wretch him from Clitonymus’ grasp and in a flash Patroclus pulls one of the guards swords of out their hand rather severely, and in a span of seconds Clitonymus is on the table gargling his own blood, his throat sliced and blood spilling from his neck onto the table in creating a pool. Clemencia screams as Amphidamas looks on in horror at his son dying before him. Patroclus turned to the guard trying to take the sword and knocked his helmet from his head then head butted the man leaving him passed out on the floor while the other guard drew his sword and swung it Patroclus’ way, cutting into his tunic and into his skin, leaving a wound on the side of his abdomen. Patroclus stopped and viewed the fresh wound upon himself, his eyes wide and he looked back at the guard and before the guard could swing again the guard was beheaded quickly.

“By the gods!-“a woman screams, the other guards are rushing toward the scene before Patroclus hops onto the table and grabs Clemencia by her hair, putting the sword near her neck.

“Wait! NO!” Amphidamas yells, holding his hands up to stop the guards hoping that it will calm Patroclus.

“Patroclus, please” Patroclus chest rising and falling as his breathing accelerates, the sword grazing Clemencia’s neck skin as she is now crying, still looking at her dead son on the table as blood begins to reach the ends and drip from them onto the floor.

Patroclus raises his head and lowers his dilated eyes on Amphidamas, “Did she obey you well the last time you went to her, when you left scars upon her thighs?!”

“What-“

“GUH!!” A loud growl escapes Patroclus’ mouth as he releases Clemencia and she falls onto the floor, Amphidamas, relieved, scrambles to help his wife up as she sobs and cries for her son. The room is silent with only a few women crying and men gasping, wondering how things got to where they are. Patroclus’ arms drop to his sides with the sword still in one hand as he stands on the table over Clitonymus’ dead body. It’s as if he is not looking at anyone or anything, he is motionless; he is the statue of the lion that sits outside of the dining room.

“So be it from here my mother and her mother and mother and her mother and so on” Patroclus begins to speak finally after moments of silence. Amphidamas face twists into confusion, tears forming in his eyes as he cannot ignore his dead son on the table.

“I will not survive in this palace much longer if this man continues to do what he pleases” he continues, “o’ goddess, I beg of you, though I have neglected my prayers these last few years, shower mercy upon me and my child!” he drops the sword and begins to hold his head with both hands.

“I now know what he desires” he goes on, tears beginning to form and fall once again from those bloodshot dilated eyes. “Bleeding…I am bleeding…” his voice gets quieter.

“The scars on my thighs” he lowers his gaze once again to Amphidamas, the room is still and Amphidamas finally realizes that Patroclus is speaking of Sthenele.

“Why I have bled many nights because of him?” Patroclus begins to sob, his tears falling on his tunic and onto the table, mixing with the blood that has spilled from Clitonymus’ neck. Patroclus’ shuts his eyes, clenching them shut while sobbing and continuing to quote words from the scrolls, his mind fully gone, he is stateless.

“I am pregnant with his child from the nights of torture he delivered to me!” He holds his belly as if he is carrying a child. “I am dying…I am dying with this child inside of me!” he opens his eyes looking at the ceiling, tears falling freely. Clemencia and Amphidamas looking on in both horror and sorrow, Clemencia’s cries being the only sound heard in the room for a second until Patroclus snaps his gaze back to Amphidamas.

His eyes now nearly pitch black with speckles of what looks like stars in them, he growls as his neck moves inhumanly around and around as he shakes it. Outside the guards of the palace notice the deep dark blue night sky turn completely black and the stars and moon begin to shine brighter than they’d ever seen.

“You wanted Sthenele but what you will get is someone much older…” His voice venomous. The fire in the hanging lanterns blow out and the doors to the dining room shut by themselves as statues that they’d brought in just for this dinner begin to crack and crumble. A slight breeze now roams the room as people yelling fear of what is happening.

Patroclus leans his head to the side with a now grim smile on his face, “Amphidamas...Sthenele is waiting” he laughs but Amphidamas suddenly stands putting Clemencia behind him as to protect her.

“NO!” Patroclus’ smile disappears and he stomps his foot on the throat of Clitonymus, “be quiet.” He made another sound that was similar to a growl, “I wonder…I wonder when you truly knew you wanted to take her”, Amphidamas’ nose starting to flare up as tears fell from his eyes—he was scared and angry but most of all…scared.

“Sthenele, she heard you…just you, she heard you coming to her room and she was curious, she walked closer to her door as you rounded the corner and discovered you…” his facial expression is grim and teasing at this point, his skin pale.

He goes still for a moment before abruptly kicking Clitonymus’ corpse off of the table as the entire room screams at the sound of the body hitting the floor.

“AHH ah ah!” Clemencia screeches as she reaches out her arms to her son but Amphidamas has his arm blocking her, not wanting her anywhere near…whatever Patroclus was at the moment. His heart was beating fast and chills were engulfing his body.

“You are just a man, an ANIMAL!” Patroclus screams as he stomps his foot on the table once again, “Perpetrator! Leech!” his eyes leave Amphidamas and focuses on the entire room instead, his arms begin to shake and he pull something out from the inside of his tunic, the purple crescent moon encrusted stone. He closes his eyes briefly and reopens them.

“Grand goddess of the night, look into the eyes of the man that stands before you and the blood that stains him, his lips ripe with lies, hands red from the blood that he drew when he took her! But let it be so cold, so dark like when she was crying—when she was crying out for her dying blessing, she was so afraid, goddess! Οη Νψχ, Μψ Γοδδεσς, Ωηεν Ι ιν αωεσομε ωονδερ! αωεσομε ωονδερ! αωεσομε ωονδερ!” Patroclus screams as the rest of the room screams with him, people running toward the shut doors, stampeding over one another.

Amphidamas turns from Patroclus and to Clemencia, “We will get out of here, my dear”.

“My son” she cries.

Women, men and children frightened and struggling to get to the doors and open them. Somehow they are shut tight and no one not even the guards who are trying to ply them open can succeed.

“Miss Elindis, come, are you alright?” Peisanda helps the old woman up after being knocked over by the panicked crowd.

“Yes, child, I just-“She sees Patroclus on the table and she cannot believe what she has witnessed here on this night.

“MOVE! MOVE!” A few men come through a crowd, altogether picking up one of the large tables, trying their to ram one of the doors down. Children are crying, women with babies are rocking them trying to soothe them in all of the chaos. Everyone who was seated at Amphidamas’ table has evacuated the area and joined everyone else in trying to escape the room.

“Die” The lanterns that carried fire ignite once again and the fire this time is of a blue color, the chains holding them to the ceiling snap and fall all over the room.

“AHHH!!!” the screams rise as the sun has done each day, the slight breeze in the room teases the fire, helping it spread through the room. Men, women, children burn as Patroclus stands atop the table still with his dark eyes now on Amphidamas and Clemencia.

He picks up the sword he’d dropped earlier with the stone in his other hand and nears the new King and Queen. “Patroclus please-“, Clemencia sobbing uncontrollably at his side.

“Miss Elindis-“as Peisanda called for the old woman, she was hit by one of the falling pieces of structure from the ceiling as a flame then ran across the area. Miss Elindis wasn’t too far behind for the flame to catch her and set her alight.

At the front of the room Patroclus could be seen with the bodies of the king and queen laid out before him, sword now dropped with him now only holding the stone. The smell of blood and the sound of screams soothe him in this numb state. He sees the bodies of many people he knew as the blue flames envelopes the doors and spreads throughout the entire palace. As he walks from the room and through the flames and pass the lion statue that is still standing he looks back at the palace, one last time engulfed in flames and charred skeletons. _This is it._

He walks pass the guards who are outside of the palace with their mouths wide open, not sure what to do. “Hey-“

“Seal the doors”

“But there are people-“, Patroclus turns to the guard and shows his teeth, “Seal. The. Fucking. Doors.” And the guard does just that as Patroclus walks off into the night as the palace burns in blue flames under the bright moon and star lights.

People in the kingdom come out of their homes, wondering what that smell is and children running to get their mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, “Look! Look mommy! The palace is burning! Why is it burning?” Acrisias herself standing in the ring at her stable sees the flames as well, "What in hades..." 

“I don’t know, what is happening at the palace…” people gather in the streets and chatter, wondering and panicking. The smell of the blood and fire reaching through the kingdom.

 

-

 

Patroclus had left his father’s urn in the palace, he knew he would leave it because it was his father’s palace. He was still king now that his palace went, it was only fitting to Patroclus that his father went with it. He’d stumbled upon a tree near the main road on the way to wherever wasn't here as he’d been walking for four hours. He plopped down, tired and exhausted, not knowing exactly what had taken place in that dining room after he had insulted Clitonymus and Clemencia…it was though some outside force had acted through him, he could not explain it but he was tired and that’s what he was sure of. He had one thing though, he had his mother’s stone with him—tightly gripped in his hands. The night was growing old and so he decided to rest, he could not walk let alone stand at this point anyways. He could not speak, he could not hear anything, his vision was very blurry and it wasn’t tears causing it this time.

His lips were dry and he felt like his head would explode at any moment, he leaned his head back on the tree and closed his eyes hoping to fall asleep but unfortunately…he still could not and so he sat there through the rest of the night trying to come back to his senses.

Hours later Patroclus could feel the cool air warming and feeling the light sprinkling through the tops of the trees onto his skin, he could also now hear the birds singing and pecking at tree trunks. He did not open his eyes from fear of the daylight blinding him as he already felt his eyes were very sensitive from whatever happened last night. He waited and desired to rest for a little longer before he heard singing, like someone joining in with the birds to sing their own song for the morning.

_“Consider all the world one holds in his hands,_

_You are the sky, you are the rolling thunder”_

He could hear the voice and it sounded all too familiar. _I know that voice, I’d know that voice even in this state of madness and numbness._

 

On the road a few inches from where the tree Patroclus was resting on was, was Achilles accompanied by Eudorus on horses, Achilles was on Xanthus while Eudorus had one of the Myrmidon horses. Achilles abruptly stopped.

“Is that smoke?” he asked, about to answer his own question in a few seconds, “its smoke”.

“I do not know, Is it?” Eudorus enquires.

“Yes” They stop as Achilles continues to look and observe what’s happening at his destination. As he is looking and Eudorus gets down from his horse, hands on hips trying to figure out what’s happening; there’s a small voice coming from behind a tree.

“You hear that Achilles?”

“Yeah, it’s coming from-”, Achilles breaks out into a sprint into the trees, he first passes by Patroclus before standing still and turning around to see him covered in blood, ash and a wound near his abdomen.

“Patroclus!” Achilles rushes to his side, “Patroclus! What has happened to you?!” Eudorus hears Achilles voice and rushes to where he is only to immediately kneel to check the boy out as well.

Patroclus’ eyes begin to open only for him to see that the sun had risen before him and knelt down beside him. A soft smile touches his lips.


End file.
